


hold on (until i’m gone)

by PivotCouch



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, TW: Gun at school, it’s Part of the backstory but it exists in ch 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PivotCouch/pseuds/PivotCouch
Summary: Felicity Smoak is not crazy, which is why it makes no sense that there’s a man in a white coat telling her she is.
Relationships: Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 235
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

Felicity Smoak, MIT graduate in the year of our Lord two thousand and nine, is not crazy.

Felicity Megan Smoak is not - _not_ \- certifiable.

A little particular. Slightly neurotic. A smidge overprotective when it comes to things (people) that are _hers_ . And maybe, just maybe, a dash fastidious, but not _crazy._

Nope.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense that there is a man in a white lab coat sitting in front of her telling her that she is. 

“How long have you been here, Felicity?”

Dr. Golov (not his full name), Board Certified Psychiatrist, sits opposite her in a chair with no arms. When she’d first met him, he’d reminded her of Barry; all innocent with a deceiving intelligence. While she was young for her level of success, he looked not much older with chestnut hair that reached for the ceiling at his hairline. 

They are sitting in his office for the fifth time in as many days. Or maybe it’s the fifth time in three days. Time was trivial. Either/or she’d already had her fill of the stark white walls and empty desk. 

Felicity had tackled canvassing the room the first day she’d been ushered through the door; taken from a room they’d called hers. Considering the emptiness of the office, it was a menial task. Filing cabinet, bare desk, and a chair for both participants. Straightforward and nothing more. There were no plaques on the walls, no letters or envelopes or business cards for Felicity to ascertain her location. It was as nondescript as a room could be save for the windows. 

Everywhere she went, each room she entered, held one escape route - expansive windows that let the sun in - blocked by a series of vertical metal bars. This room was no different and the petite blonde often found her attention diverted to them like they held the mystery of why she was there - in that chair, in that room, in that building - in the first place. 

“A week, I think.” 

Felicity’s attention moves from the rays cascading through the windows to her hands in her lap as she spoke. Her once new manicure, lilac in color, now held a few imperfect chips. For somebody so enamored with color it was the only one to be found in the sea of white that she was wearing. Her Henley and loose cotton pants, both a stark beige, were in contrast with her usual rainbow style. 

“Days tend to run together.” She continues with a shrug as she tugs on the cuff of her shirt. 

She knows she was drugged when she arrived. Probably before she arrived. They think she doesn’t remember being wheeled around in a haze the first couple of days. When everything was a fog and people talked like she wasn’t in the room. They think she doesn’t remember.

What she doesn’t know is the how of it all. How did they get her? How did she get here? How will she get out? And she’ll have to get herself out because Oliver is...and Diggle has his hands full with that one. He doesn’t know that she was in the Arrow cave (lair.. foundry..whatever) to follow a lead.

Well, he _didn’t_ know. It’s been a week so she hopes they noticed her absence long ago. The idea that she wasn’t missed was just depressing.

Everyone she meets (which isn’t many) is quite mum about the how but not the _why._ Not that it’s entirely important because what they’re saying is ludicrous. And impossible. 

According to them, Felicity is suffering from a stress-induced psychotic break. In layman’s terms, she’d gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. That’s what her doctor had explained anyhow. Not the cuckoo part, obviously, the psychotic break part. 

One of her jobs (there was a disagreement on which one) had broken her to the point of psychosis. 

See? Ludicrous. 

Raising her head, Felicity looks bemused at her personal Doogie Howser. He’s sitting much like he has for every other session, one leg crossed over the other with his clipboard teetering on his knee. His pen is settled between his fingers though he hasn’t moved to write anything since she’d answered his question. It was the only one in the building - the pen (as far as she knew) because pens were pointy and pointy things could become stabby things. 

Patients tended to be volatile around here. 

And by patients, she means one _specific_ patient.

Roy is her friend but he has a litany of issues that begin and end with anger. Felicity had ran into him the first time she was allowed out of her room.

\- - - - -

_She should have been scared._

_Waking up in an unknown location after being nabbed by unknown assailants, she should have been terrified, but it was the first time in at least a few days that she didn’t feel disoriented. Groggy from oversleeping, yes, but not overtaken by a dim fog._

_That was progress and Felicity couldn’t find it in her to be upset about progress._

_Pushing the flimsy blanket behind her, Felicity moved to sit up, her feet pulled up and around to dangle over the edge of the bed. Her brain was sluggish and her head_ hurt _but she was alive and that was most important._

_Allowing herself the time to settle into the new position, she used it to evaluate herself. Alive? Check. Beaten? Negative. Injured? More context needed._

_Her wrists were raw from bindings but they’d been removed at some point, maybe after they’d wheeled her in. She didn’t remember much from her timeout but she remembered the creak of wheels as somebody led her from the deserted hallway into the room._

_Felicity’s eyes opened slowly and she hissed from the jolt of pain the light in the room brought her. Taking a few deep breaths, she willed herself to push through it and get moving. She didn’t know how long she’d already been here and couldn’t afford to dawdle just because of a slight headache. Okay, a big headache, but still…_

_If Oliver could push an arrow_ through his body _(ew), Felicity could maneuver about with a migraine._

_The first thing she noticed was the sun streaming through a large window. Too high to see out, she moved to stand and felt the room turn upside down._

_“Whoa,” she breathed softly with a wince, a hand moving to grip her knee before pushing herself to stand._

_Her bare feet made contact with the cool concrete and yanked her attention from the barred window. Where were her shoes? Her gaze followed the length of the room where floor met wall, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Each wall was a blank canvas and the only furniture was the rickety old bed. No dresser, no bedside table, nothing but a bed that came straight from_ Girl, Interrupted _._

_Moving back to grip the footboard, once again greeted by the coolest of surfaces, Felicity held firm as she pushed and pulled to find any loose screws or bars. Anything to serve as a weapon._

_Much to her disappointment, it was utterly sturdy._

_The same could be said for the bars that were blocking the window. One door in and out, and a window that she couldn’t access behind bars that she couldn’t pry loose. Such sucky escape paths._

_After thoroughly checking for anything out of the ordinary, a task that took almost no time at all given the vacant state that surrounded her, Felicity made her exit._

_\- - - -_

_Shuffling barefoot down the hall, she massaged her wrists. The skin was red but would heal well enough if they weren’t further irritated._

_While she hadn’t lived in the military like John, or been forced to become a soldier without a war like Oliver, Felicity had managed to pick up a few tips and tricks from her two favorite men. Assessing injury and knowing her way around a first aid kit were among her first lessons. She just hadn’t ever imagined herself as the injured party._

_As she padded down the hallway, she looked for cameras or windows or_ anything _that could give her a clue or help her escape. Yet, she saw nothing of import._

 _What Felicity_ did _notice was the lack of people. There was nobody else in the hallway, which felt .. off. Weird._

_Shouldn’t she see other patients? Doctors or orderlies? They existed, she was sure of it. She hadn’t put herself here. Hadn’t wheeled herself around. Hadn’t buckled herself to that bed._

_And that realization hit Felicity like a ton of bricks. She_ had _been buckled to the bed. She knew it as surely as she could feel the ache in her wrists._

_Somebody had taken her, wheeled her in here, and secured her to that bed. Well, she’s just going to compartmentalize that into her inner trash can and secure the lid on top. There was nothing good that could come from dealing with it right now. It wouldn’t help her get out of here and that’s what she needed to concentrate on. Not whatever had happened to her during a time she couldn’t even remember._

_That was a connudrum that she’d pick up later. Or never. She would solve the most pressing matters first._

_\- - - -_

_“Left out of my room. Office on the right. Janitor’s closet end of hall… right at the nurse’s station… and … we have the … whatever this room is.” Felicity talked quietly to herself as she followed the hallway from her room._

_Everything was starkly white and clean. The nurse’s station was tucked away in a corner with plexiglass to partition the nurses and the patients. It was currently unoccupied but Felicity’s hands were itching to get on the computers that were housed there._

_The room that greeted her was large and, much like everything else, nearly empty. It was white and clean and held the same expansive windows and vertical bars that had been in her room. Not_ her _room.. the room she had woken up in._

_Felicity took her time here as she had when she’d awoken. The walls were bare of pictures, bare of anything, really. No paint. No scuff marks. No decorations._

_Tables and chairs were metal to match the bed frame, and the tables were bolted to the floor. She thought about using a chair as a battering ram against the windows, but they were too high to see out and she didn’t know how high up she was._

_Instead, she pulled one of the chairs over to the window, and moved like she was going to step onto it._

_“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”_

_Startled, Felicity whipped around to see where that voice had materialized. She’d been around this entire room - twice - and had seen nobody. How had somebody snuck up on her?_

_Sitting at a table, head and face covered by the hood of a red sweatshirt, Felicity felt a grin tug at her lips. She_ knew _that voice._

 _She_ knew _that hoodie._

_“Hey there, Blondie.”_

_There were times (many of them, in fact) when a particularly dicey patrol would end with Felicity bouncing her leg as she sat impatiently waiting for all of her chicks to return to roost. The ball of worry, anxiety, and fear lodged in the pit of her stomach as Felicity conjured every worst case scenario her overactive imagination wanted to throw at her. It was a lonely and exhausting existence for the long minutes it took over while she lingered in the unknown, but Felicity had been living with it now for days. Ever since she’d been awake enough to realize she was separated from her team and utterly alone. That same ball had been festering unchecked within her until that voice and the person attached made themselves known._

_Felicity couldn’t stop the grin from growing into a full blown smile. Wherever she was, whoever had stolen her, she had a friend, an ally, and together they could figure it out._

_“Roy..” she croaked out, his name caught in the net of emotions clogging her throat._

_From across the room, she watched Roy Harper raise a hand and pull the hood back to reveal his face._

_Seeing him, all tight lipped and surly, loosened her unease and tears danced across her irises. “Oh thank god.” Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much the weight of her situation had settled into her bones._

_Making a beeline for the table, she wound around unoccupied chairs, abandoning her escape plan in favor of the mini-vigilante. Grasping a chair, she pulled it out with a cringe at the metal scraping against the floor._

_“Back to the land of the living, eh?” He questioned with a cock of his head and...was that a smirk?_

_Suddenly, the quiet and calculating Felicity that had been searching for a way out was gone and this Felicity couldn’t get her words out fast enough. “I think whoever took us had me drugged for a couple days.” There was no need to sugar coat when anything could be pertinent information._

_Her fingers massaged the burns on her wrist, tugging at the cuffs of her shirt. “And restrained.”_

_After a quick survey of the area, Felicity leaned forward, and lowered her voice to a hush. “It doesn’t seem like they’re watching us all the time. I mean, look around, nobody’s here…” Her arms spread to make her point. “I’ve got a couple plans brewing, you know me. We could try the windows but those bars look sturdy. Plus, if they_ are _watching us and they’re close, we wouldn’t even get to the glass before we’re found out. When I passed by the nurse’s station, I didn’t see anybody. If I can get to their computers —“_

_“Shift change.”_

_“Shit.”_

_Roy watched her inquisitively, brows furrowed. “If we can get you to their computer…” his words dragging out as he waited for her to fill in the blanks._

_“Well,” she wrung her hands, suddenly second guessing her plan. Maybe Roy knew something that she didn’t because he seemed way too calm under the circumstances. “I could get a message to the lair’s computers. Or maybe..maybe Detective Lance.” With mirakuru soldiers and Slade on the loose, it might be easier to reach him._

_He raised his brow in reply. “Lair?”_

_Felicity could feel herself deflate. Granted she hadn’t had long to devise a plan, but getting a message to the rest of the team was pretty top priority. Unless, it was unnecessary and Roy knew that. “It’s redundant, isn’t it? No, you’re right. He knows we’re here. He’s probably already coming to get us.”_

_The first problem with that was she was assuming he knew. Roy wasn’t with her in the foundry so either he was taken from a secondary location, or he was in there to break her out. She was banking more on the latter if she was being honest with herself._

_The second problem was that she assumed Oliver or John were in a place to even try to save her. Or that they’d want to. There was that time during the Undertaking when Oliver had left her in the foundry to go after Laurel, but she’d been fine. A little scared, sure, but Laurel was in a collapsing building and hers was relatively intact. Plus, he hadn’t just watched his mother die. That had to color his thought process._

_On the other hand, Oliver had been there for the Count and for Tockman. He’d held her_ so tightly _after she’d been shot, and Felicity didn’t want to think about the Dollmaker. That was a decision she would never regret because it worked out in the end, but she wasn’t ever going to repeat it willingly._

_None of that mattered right now except for the fact that Oliver had never left her behind and she knew it in her bones that wouldn’t change._

_And if she had to squash the voice in her head making her question why he hadn’t already shown up, well, she wasn’t going to tell anyone about that._

_“Detective Lance?”_

_Roy’s question brought her eyes up to his with an adamant shake of her head. She’d never had to leave breadcrumbs in a conversation before. “No. Oliver.”_

_“Your boss? Blondie. Are you off your meds again?”_

_Huh?_

_“I told you they had me drugged for the first couple of days, but I think it’s all clear.” She felt better than she had in days, so she was pretty certain whatever had been given to her didn’t have any lasting effects. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Maybe three days. When did you get here?”_

_Felicity looked at him expectantly, her brows raising to prod him when he didn’t respond right away._

_“Felicity…” Roy shook his head and looked down at his hands on the table. When he looked up at her, Felicity inhaled sharply at what she saw looking back._

_Pity._

_When Roy joined the team, Felicity had made it her business that he was taken care of. He’d been an unwelcome and surprise addition, but once he’d barreled in and made himself home, she’d accepted him without question. Growing up, she didn’t have any siblings but what she felt for Roy could only be described as love for a brother._

_They’d spent hours together and she’d seen every emotion on his face when it came to her. Annoyance (big time), worry, anger, frustration, but she’d_ never _seen this one._

_Roy had never, would never, pity her._

_The unease that had begun to dissipate from his presence found renewed vigor and swelled in size. Maybe this was not her Roy at all._

_“God!” He shook his head again and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You were doing so good, too. I thought you were finally going to get out of here. What happened, huh? Trip from your mom? A visit from Queen? Why’d you stop taking ‘em?”_

_She had no idea what he was talking about, but he wasn’t making any sense. Felicity grasped on to what she could. Found the one thing in what he was saying that gave her hope. That was really what she was looking for in all of this -_ hope _. Hope that he’d find her. Hope that he’d come for her. Hope that she could get herself out because she was a strong, intelligent, independent woman that didn’t need a man to save her. Just.. hope._

_“You saw Oliver? When? How? He didn’t take you..us.. with him?” Sitting back in her seat, Felicity drew her leg into the chair so she could rest her elbow on her knee. As her thoughts ran rampant in her head, she stared at the table._

_There was something she was missing. It felt like she’d been told half the story. It didn’t make sense that Oliver would have been here and left them. He wouldn’t do that without a reason, and he wouldn’t just leave her here without telling her the rest of the plan._

_Her thumb moved to her mouth, chipped lilac nail between her teeth as she tried to work out the problem. In all actuality, she wasn’t really thinking about this Roy hearing her. “He knows we’re here. Knows I’m here.. he’ll come for me. He came for you before and he’d do it again. He always does.”_

_“Felicity!”_

_Roy’s yell broke through her thoughts and caused her to jump. She hadn’t even realized he’d pounded his fists on the table until two men in white scrubs flew through a door and made for their corner._

_Where in the hell? Apparently they_ were _being watched, and closely, if that response time showed her anything._

_“Sorry,” he muttered, holding up his hands to show his surrender. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”_

_Felicity’s sure one of them mumbled a reply that sounded like ‘better not’ before they were both gone again._

_Mirroring her pose from earlier, Roy leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Felicity, you have got to stop this. Oliver Queen hasn’t been here for weeks. I haven’t seen him since he was here to let you go. A really shitty thing to do, by the way, I still stand by that.”_

_“Weeks? That’s not… how? Three days.. two in bed.. and today…”_

_“Blondie, you’ve been here for nine months.”_

_Then she saw it again. Pity._

_Nine months.. that wasn’t possible. Felicity could feel herself spiraling down at the implications. It wasn’t possible._

_Nine months ago was the Undertaking. She knew everything they’d done since then. Bringing Oliver back from Lian Yu, Isabel, Sara...Moira.._

_“No.” Felicity shook her head, her fingers twisting the cuff of her shirt._

_“Yes. Your mom checked you in and you’ve been here ever since. Psychotic break.” He pointed at her and his other hand pointed to his chest. “Oppositional Defiant Disorder.”_

_Psychotic break? Her jobs were stressful, sure, but she’d always kept her head. Even when they were breaking Lyla out of the gulag, and Isabel had plastered herself all over Oliver,_ her _head was always in the game. Even if somebody else’s wasn’t._

_“Nuh uh.. no. Nope.” Felicity stood up, hand waving Roy off when he made a move toward her, and backed away from the table. This wasn’t her Roy. Something had happened, maybe he’d hit his head, or there was more going on than she knew, but this person wasn’t hers._

_She could feel a fresh rush of fear and worry pass over as the realization that she was alone sank back into her body. Where she’d thought there was an ally - a partner - she was finding emptiness._

_The chair behind her clattered to the ground and the sound reverberated off the naked walls._

_She twisted her fingers in her shirt and then they wound around her wrist. “I’m not crazy. Oliver wouldn’t.. he_ wouldn’t _abandon me, Roy.”_

_She was raising her voice and the orderlies were back through the door and at her side lickedy-split. She thought she felt a large hand wrap around her arm and attempted to shrug it off, but they had a firm hold. Felicity felt the prick before she ever even saw a needle, never realizing just how much she was fighting against the very large men._

_“You’re wrong, Roy.” Her words came out more sluggish than she expected, and she felt her body slacken._

_For just a flash, almost imperceptibly, the stark, pristine room disappeared and was replaced by dark and dingy walls, rusted metal and emptiness. Roy and the table are both missing._

_And then he was back. It was all back._

_“Goddamnit, Felicity.” He huffed but she felt so tired and he was so fuzzy._

_She tried to speak but she was just so groggy._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blown away by the response the first chapter received. Blown away. Thank you so much for the comments and the bookmarks and the kudos and the reading. 
> 
> I was also so nervous about posting the first chapter, I neglected to give a timeline of where we are in the show. We are in Season 2 after Moira’s funeral, episode 21 in the very beginning. After that it’s all AU, folks! Oh! I made a change to canon in that Oliver did not lose the company. I hated it so I fixed it. In doing so, it means that Isabel hasn’t gotten her revenge so she doesn’t out herself as working with Slade, she’s never shot by Diggle, never mirakurued. She is alive and in the boardroom. 
> 
> Other notes: I don’t have a beta. 
> 
> I own nothing.

\- - - -

“A week, you think.”

Dr. Golov’s voice pulls her focus back to the office and back to him. Felicity rights her gaze from the window and to the doctor sitting in front of her. “And where were you before you checked in here?

They’d had this conversation before. Him insisting that she checked in with her mother, signed over her power of attorney and guardianship like she was some kind of Lesser Value pop star. She maintained that she was taken and woke up here for reasons yet unknown.

Dr. Golov studies her silently and scribbles on his ledger. With a sigh, he removes his glasses, uncrosses his legs, and leans forward. His elbows land on his knees and the ledger dangles in his grasp. 

Felicity really wants to read that ledger. Honestly, it’s not even that nice looking to warrant it. Brown with scuffed edges and one torn corner. Inside, though, would give her access to all his inner thoughts. 

“Let’s say you’re right. You were living your life, and then one day you woke up here. Who would take you? Why?”

This was new. 

Each time they’d met, they usually found new ways to restate an old argument. She’d push her narrative and he’d sit there stoically until the subject was changed. He’d never once pushed back or entertained the idea that Felicity could be right about her circumstances. 

Now that he had it was unnerving. Her time here was spent on high-alert. Always looking for an escape, a flaw in security that she could exploit, and this could be that flaw. Or it could be a trap. 

For the longest time, Felicity just stares at him as she calculates the best response for either scenario. Not an easy feat given she has to try and use the little knowledge she has of the man in front of her to predict his response and the direction the conversation would veer afterward. 

There was only one thing that she could say that also happened to be honest. 

“I don’t know,” she answers, and she doesn’t. The Arrow has a lot of enemies and there is no telling how many of them know her involvement. 

“You don’t know? Surely a secretary doesn’t have enemies.”

Felicity bristles at his tone and pulls herself together, sitting up. “Executive assistant. I don’t know _right now_ but I’ll figure it out.”

Door closed. Wall up. 

She knows the instant he realized his mistake because he makes a swift change in tactic. “How about we table that for our next session, and go back to where you were before you were admitted.”

“Queen Consolidated as Oliver Queen’s Executive assistant.”

“The same Oliver Queen that mysteriously disappeared for 5 years and then resurfaced just to need tech support from you, Miss Smoak? That Oliver Queen?”

Her eyes narrow at his glib response. “What Oliver went through..being stranded on the island… fighting for his life.. fighting to get _home_..” She purses her lips as she struggles to keep going. There isn’t a word in any language that she knew to explain what that experience was for Oliver or how it colored her opinion of him. Felicity lets out a dark chuckle as she shakes her head. “You know nothing about him.” There’s no hiding the bite behind her words even if she had wanted to, and she didn’t want to. 

“I notice that when we meet you always call him ‘Oliver’ and never ‘Mr. Queen’. Rather personal for a secretary.”

“Executive assistant,” she corrects. Apparently he’d decided to be contrary today. 

“Executive assistant then.” He’d sat back in his seat when she’d interrupted him, losing his friendly demeanor and back to being purely professional. “I’m just wondering what Mrs. Queen thinks of that familiarity.”

Moira Queen was every bit the personification of a mother bear. Outside of her family, she was cutthroat and ruthless and shrewd, all traits of an amazing businesswoman. To Oliver and Thea, she was the mother that rubbed their back when they were sick. The mother that protected them with everything she had, every fiber and cell in her being. 

She was..she was their mother.

Felicity stills at his comment, her fingers immediately restarting their fidgeting at his retort. In all their sessions they’d never talked about Moira Queen or Felicity’s relationship with her. A relationship that had gone from nonexistent to contentious in the span of 10 minutes. And then Moira had died - been murdered - and with her went a piece of the man that she loved. 

For all of their faults, Robert and Moira loved their children in ways that Felicity’s own father had not. They lived and breathed for Thea and Oliver, anyone else be damned, and both had died for them without question. Fierce and unblinking until the very end. 

“His mother.. she … before she…” There is nothing she could say to explain how little she mattered to Moira.

“Not his mother, Felicity, his wife.”

His what now?

All thoughts of the Queen matriarch vacate the premises. Felicity shakes her head, blonde hair brushing her cheeks. Those words just did not compute. Oliver had already told her that he couldn’t be with somebody that he could really care about, so there was no way that he suddenly found himself a wife. Well, he _had_ immediately started sparring naked with Sara after that admission, so while Felicity was 99.9% sure that Oliver Queen wasn’t blissfully wed, this fact accounted for the tenth of a percent of skepticism on her part. 

“Oliver doesn’t have a wife.” Blatant denial seems like the appropriate response despite her misgivings. Dr Golov doesn’t need to know about those.

“Felicity.”

“No.” She is firm in her rebuttal. “He doesn’t have a wife. Absolutely not. Seems like you’re the crazy one, doc. I spend more days and nights with Oliver than anyone. He does not, now or previously, have a wife.”

“Felicity, you’ve met her.” Something in his tone is reminiscent of Roy. God, she hates being pitied. “She comes to the office. You’ve been to their home. Surely, you haven’t forgotten that.”

Felicity scoffs. She couldn’t forget somebody that doesn’t exist. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this mystery woman’s name? Hm?”

“Laurel Queen.”

Felicity’s brows raise in surprise as she sucks in a breath, her hand moving to her chest where she’d swear her heart _should be_ beating but is very much stalled. Even she knows that isn’t a normal reaction to finding out the name of her platonic friend’s “wife”, but she doesn’t need to focus on that right now. 

_Gorgeous Laurel._

She really shouldn’t be that surprised. It would be her. Pined for, pedestaled, _gorgeous_ Laurel freaking Lance. Oliver had ran straight for her when he’d washed ashore, and then again just before the Glades took a humpty-dumpty and the vigilante couldn’t put it back to-fucking-gether again. 

“That’s… uh uh… Nope. That’s just…” Her words stumble over each other and her brain slows to a crawl. What was _wrong_ with her? It was like the idea was so preposterous that her brain just powered down. She needs to _move_ , type, something that is physical and can distract her enough to get a coherent thought. Being in this place has left her stagnant and antsy. 

Standing, Felicity runs her fingers through her hair as she paces the room. As insane and ridiculous and nonsensical as it was, it just made sense. Oliver and Laurel were Sisyphus and their relationship was that stupid rock - destined to roll downhill, never to succeed, and only end up wearing out everyone involved.

Except it didn’t make any sense because of Tommy. Nine months ago, Oliver lost a brother and Laurel lost somebody that she loved. Was in love with. Felicity had been there for the funeral. She’d seen how broken up the woman was, and that person wouldn’t have walked down the aisle towards anybody that wasn’t Tommy Merlyn.

On her second pass in front of Dr Golov’s feet, Felicity pauses and looks at him before shaking her head and returning to her path.

“Miss Smoak - maybe it’s time to have a seat.” It was an order veiled as a suggestion but Felicity didn’t care.

“I think better when I’m moving.”

“And what is it you’re trying to think of?”

“Your angle.” Honesty felt appropriate in that moment. She’s too frazzled, too caught off guard to try for anything else. Her butterfinger mouth really wouldn’t allow for it either. She might be able to obfuscate but _lie_ … pointless. There was no hesitation for a response, instead she just barrels on through. “What do you gain by making me believe Oliver has a secret marriage with Laurel Lance? A marriage that is not only a _horrible_ idea - on paper and in actuality - but an _impossible_ situation. Laurel prosecuted Oliver’s mother for the Glades. That conflict of interest is about as big as those craters left behind.”

Her hands fly to her mouth as her tongue runs away from her. She wasn’t at the epicenter but she was in that mess. She’d been covered by dust and pebbles, hiding in the dark when _others_ (Tommy) had been elsewhere. Scared and alone and dying. Tommy wasn’t a punchline.

“Is this what we’re doing now?” It’s her turn to not offer a reply, mostly because she has no clue what ‘this’ refers to, so he barrels forward ignoring whatever faux pas she believes she’s committed. “Nine months of hard work just to end up back at the beginning. There was no Undertaking. There was no trial. Oliver Queen is not the Hood or the Arrow - You are not his partner. There is no vigilante.”

Felicity has stopped moving now. Her arms are wrapped tight, hugging herself the best she can. He sighs and looks a little like he’s saying ‘fuck it’ to himself before going all in.

“Oliver Queen never disappeared for five years. He’s been CEO with you as his _Executive Assistant_ for the past few years.”

Felicity stares, dumbfounded. He’s jumbled so much together that there’s no way she can deny part of it without somehow denying all of it. If she insists on the Undertaking or the trial having happened then she loses on the deniability that _of course_ Oliver Queen isn’t the Arrow. She doesn’t know how he did it, or what he knows, but it’s disconcerting. She goes with something different even by her standards. Felicity laughs, because what else can she do, and asks, “Who told you all of that nonsense?”

It takes him time to respond but when he does his voice is softer. Gentler. “You did.”

Felicity sits heavy on her chair with a soft, “Oh.”

\- - - - 

She’s back in her room after that. Maybe she called a time out or he proclaimed time up; either way, she’s away from him. 

He’s lying and she knows it. She can’t _prove_ it but she doesn’t have to as long as she can continue to believe it. 

Sitting on the creaky metal bed in the desolate room, Felicity runs her hands around her wrists with a wince. The marks feel more raw, look more angry, and shouldn’t they be healing?

The thought that their keeping her restrained more often than she knows is unsettling at best. 

If only she could _remember._

It’s times like this - when she’s alone - that Felicity thinks she will go crazy if she hasn’t already. She spends all of her time devising plans and reviewing what she knows. What is the last thing she remembers? Where was the last place she was at? Who was she with? 

Sometimes she paces the room and others she sits on the bed with her back against the wall. 

She talks to herself. 

John and her separated after Moira’s funeral. She went to Verdant to run traces on Oliver since he’d been conspicuously absent. The last time he lost somebody close to him, he boarded a flight and they didn’t see him for months. She wasn’t so naive to think that he couldn’t - wouldn’t - do that again. 

Even if, maybe especially because, Slade Wilson was still in town. 

In retrospect, she should have been more concerned about the fact that she was taking refuge in an already compromised, entirely unsecret (and probably unsecured) lair. It wasn’t that Felicity thought herself invincible but rather invisible. There was no reason for her to be a target, ergo she wouldn’t be a target.

And yet here she is.

Those are the thoughts that course through her, replaying in her head over and over as she tries to figure out the who behind it all. The most in-her-face culprit had a penchant for the obvious, and this was more clever than that. Slade preferred an audience to make suffer. Dropping her here, locking her up, it had no stage on which to perform. Besides, only his vendetta was a long con. Everything else he’d done, taking Thea, attacking the foundry, killing Moira, was quick and brash and in everyone’s faces. 

If this were about Oliver Queen rather than The Arrow, only one person hated her or him this much. Isabel Rochev. With Felicity’s assistance, Oliver had retained control over his company even though Isabel had tried to get her hooks in. Felicity still couldn’t believe he was going to give that harpy privileges with a hastily scrawled note on a yellow legal pad. 

But taking her wouldn’t serve Isabel, and Isabel didn’t do anything that didn’t serve her own needs. Not to mention she had to have the wherewithal to abduct somebody. No. Isabel is a bitch but she’s embedded in the corporate world not the underbelly.

This left every other criminal the Hood and the Arrow had taken down over the last two-ish years as suspects. Couple that with their known (and unknown) associates and the list was even longer. Without access to her computers, Felicity was left to try and _Guess Who_ the culprit. 

_Did your person ever spend time on a “deserted” island in the North China Sea?_

_No. Is your person the type of criminal to have an alias?_

Sometimes Felicity is so tired, she falls asleep in the middle of the day. When she wakes the light is still streaming through the windows, and she doesn’t know if it’s the same day or the next. 

Maybe she’s been here less time than she thought, or maybe it’s more. 

And when Felicity thinks about _that_ \- the notion that maybe, just maybe, she really has been here for nine months and everything she knows is nothing but a lie takes over. The doubt creeps in slowly until it builds into a panic. Panicking is the exact opposite of helpful, so she does her best to keep those to a bare minimum.

She spends more time alone than with anybody. Alone with nothing but her thoughts. 

She can’t remember when she last ate but she never feels hungry. 

She sleeps often but is never rested. 

In the in between, she thinks about ‘John and if he’s safe. If he’s taking care of Oliver.

_Oliver._

How far gone is he? How much farther is he willing to go? How much farther is he _able_ to go?

When the door opens, she’s lost in thought, and try as she might, Felicity doesn’t know if it’s the same day or if time has passed her by yet again.

\- - - -


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and the kudos and the reading. 
> 
> Again, no beta so all mistakes are mine!

  
\- - - -

When the door opens, she’s lost in thought, and try as she might, Felicity doesn’t know if it’s the same day or if time has passed her by yet again.

She doesn’t look up until she hears his voice, and it sends her back to a sunlit cubicle on the seventh floor in the IT department.  _ Felicity Smoak? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.  _ She would know that voice across space and time. The soft way he says her name like she’s so fragile and he doesn’t want to be the one to break her.

_ And, boy, could he.  _

His silhouette is in the frame of the door backlit by shaky fluorescent lighting. Felicity screws up her eyes and swipes her tongue over her lips, pulling the bottom between her teeth as she fights back the impending tears. Her heart pounding in her ears is so loud, she swears it echos around the room.

She’s not crazy. He’s  _ here. _

Sucking in a breath, her lower lip releases to start a tremble of its own to match Felicity’s.. well, everything. Her breath is unsteady, her hands holding each other so tight to stop their own quivering, and now her lip cannot be quelled. 

It wobbles as she lets loose a deep but shaky breath and slowly opens her eyes.

Except when Felicity opens them expecting to see him in all his green glory, blurry through her unshed tears, she sees instead that the pristine walls are gone and what’s left is dark and musty and the setting of a thousand horror movies. And the person standing in the doorway isn’t the Arrow. It’s not Oliver in his suit. It’s not  _ Oliver  _ at all. 

Felicity begins to wonder if this isn’t the psychotic break that everyone is talking about after all, and for just a second, she feels the doubt and the worry and the fear slither inside of her. 

_ You’re losing it. Keep it together. They’ll know you belong here. _

But then the mildew covered walls are clean again, and he’s there, standing in the doorway in a grey suit with a matching tie. And she can forget everything else because he’s here and they’re leaving. Leaving behind the lies and stories they’re trying to spin. The slightly-off Roy. The weird flashes and missing time.

Felicity stands quickly, tossing the pillow she was clutching behind her so she can move towards him lickedy-split. 

“You’re here.” She says it so quietly, afraid to break the spell and have him disappear again. 

His hand comes up almost imperceptibly to stop her advance. Waving her off. 

When she sees, her steps falter until she stops a few feet from him. “Oliver?”

“Felicity. How are you?”

She’s thrown off kilter by the formality behind his words and tone. He’s business Oliver. Other people get business Oliver, not her. Her head tilts perplexed, eyes searching for something she can’t find. “I.. I’m okay, I think. They’ve been drugging me, maybe.. I think .. but I’ll - I’ll go to the hospital.” Normally, she’d just want to go home, go back to her bed and her pillows and her blankets, but he’d want her to get checked out. Just as a precaution but he’d insist. John would insist. She could do that for them. “You can take me.”

Oliver nods as she speaks and then he’s looking at her with the same expression that Roy does when she starts talking about getting out. 

“Felicity,” he sounds exasperated though he looks more well-rested than she’s ever seen him. That’s surprising and only slightly insulting considering she’s been missing for days. “You’re already in the hospital. They’re taking really good care of you. I know it might not seem like it, but when you’re better you’ll understand.”

“When I’m better? Oliver, I’m  _ fine _ . Just need some tests to see what they gave me.. and some sleep..I’m just so tired.” The weariness is evident in her stance and her words. 

“You’re not fine.” He’s frustrated. She’s heard that tone in the office and when he’s in the hood. Which.. why is he here in a suit-suit and not his  _ other _ suit?

Oliver’s hands come together, steepled in front of him, fingertips resting against his lips. “I’m only here because your doctor said it might help. I meant what I said before, you are important, but I have a family with Laurel and the baby, and -“

“Baby?” Her brows knit together and she’s tilting her head at him again, befuddled. What was he talking about? “Is this a joke, Oliver?” The words break as they cross her lips. Her eye catching the band encircling his finger.

The pounding in her ears quickens with the rise of her anxiety. Why are they standing here talking? Where’s John? For days she’s been convinced that seeing Oliver meant she was safe. It meant she was going home. Where there had been excitement, Felicity now only feels fear. 

“No, it’s not... Listen, I know we’ve had a really good partnership at QC, and you’ve been invaluable to me, but I can’t keep coming here because you decided to stop taking your medication. My family comes first and… Christ - you’re not part of it, Felicity.”

She knows that but she still flinches. She’s never thought of herself as part of his family. Not even close. They’re coworkers, friends,  _ partners _ , not family. She can’t help but think about her moment of weakness, when she was feeling left out and loopy on meds, hadn’t he told her that she would always be his girl? 

Felicity doesn’t think she said it aloud but maybe she did because his next words are too close to her thoughts. 

“You were my girl, Felicity. You were. You just have to understand that they’re safety, Laurel and the baby, have to come first.”

This would be so much easier if he weren’t being so gentle. If his voice wasn’t so soft and inviting. Her fingers clench at her side, nails digging into her skin, just to stop herself from reaching out to him. Scared of what his rejection of her touch would do to her. 

Ignoring everything incorrect with his statement, she zones in on what he’s implying. “They’re safety? You can’t possibly..” Months of working together, plotting with John over late night meals, and does Oliver actually think she could ever hurt him? Her chest feels like it might cave in. It’s the first thing he’s said that has her blanching. “I would  _ never _ ..”

“Not on purpose.” He’s quick with that. “I know that. I do. You are the kindest person I know, but you’re sick and you need help.”

Is she sick? She didn’t think she was but here’s Oliver in front of her and there’s no hood.. there’s no rushing out of here, and he’s telling her she needs help. Felicity doesn’t realize she’s crying until a tear falls from her chin to land on her arm. Brushing it away, she steps closer which only makes Oliver step back. 

Oh.

She was right to worry. 

That _ hurt _ . 

Grasping at straws, Felicity fumbles over her words as she tries to find something - anything - that would make what he said conceivable. How he could possibly conjure up a wife and a child as justification for keeping her in here. “You’re scared so you’re pushing me away, but Oliver, we’ve talked about this. I know your secrets and you know mine. We’re a  _ team _ . You, me, Diggle, Roy. I  _ know _ the Undertaking and losing Tommy and your mom has felt impossibly hard. I know. But we are better together. I don’t know how many times I have to say it until you believe it but I’ll keep saying it until you do.”

She’s openly crying now. Tears streaming down her cheeks, falling in droplets from her chin. Despite his kind tone and carefully plucked words, Felicity can see what he’s not saying. He doesn’t trust her. Somewhere along the way, she lost it, and she doesn’t know when or how but it’s gone. 

“This is what I’m talking about. There is no team. All that stuff you just made it up. Tommy isn’t  _ gone. _ . my mom is just fine. Your doctor told me that Roy is another patient here, but I’ve never met him, Felicity, and when you’re like this; talking about vigilantes and earthquake machines and..” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know what else you’re capable of.”

His hand on the door, he pauses before looking at her. “It’s been 9 months Felicity. I thought I was helping but maybe I’m only making it worse. All I know is I can’t keep coming back here. You won’t see me again after today because, honestly, the only thing scaring me is you.”

Felicity is at the door yelling his name as it closes behind him. Raised on the tips of her toes to see out the window, she searches for him through tears that haven’t stopped falling, but he is gone. 

And she is still here. 

And maybe…  _ maybe _ … she’s been wrong about everything.

\- - - -

“Oliver was here.”

Felicity is sitting in the rec room with Roy again. He has the hood of his zip up covering most of his face, but she didn’t need to see him for this talk. 

“To offer your job back?” He scoffs. There’s a hint of disdain in his voice and Felicity thinks maybe he’s more like her Roy than she thought. 

She knows he’s protective of her - this Roy - and he does not like Oliver Queen one iota. He’s never made that a secret. It’s only one of the differences she’s noticed recently. Felicity would die for  _ her _ Roy, and if push came to shove, she’d lay down her life for this one, too. She doesn’t know if he’d do the same. That’s another difference.

Pulling her legs to her chest, she loops her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. “Not so much.”

She launches into Oliver’s visit. As much as she doesn’t trust him, Roy is a great sounding board. For the most part, he stays calm and she’s thankful for that. Felicity can’t handle an outburst from him when she’s barely holding herself together. 

“He said I was scaring him.” She finishes in a mumble. Her eyes clenched tightly to stop the prickling of tears. 

Roy snorts and shakes his head, his eyes, like hers, have been trained on the table the entire time. “Scared of you? What an idiot.”

It’s the first thing he’s said since she dove into her retelling.

“That’s what he said - thinks I could hurt his  _ wife _ and  _ baby _ .” An impossibility even if they did exist. Which they don’t. 

Deny. Deny. Deny. 

“And this is the guy you say jumps from rooftops and fights off assassins with a bow and arrow?” It’s a rhetorical question. 

“He wasn’t my Oliver. Whoever  _ that  _ Oliver was.. he wasn’t mine,” she told him adamantly. And part of her believed it. She doesn’t tell Roy how she cried herself to sleep after. 

\- - - -

“You had a visit from Mr. Queen.” Dr. Golov is sitting in front of her, clipboard in hand, his eyes trained on her. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She wouldn’t. She really, really wouldn’t. 

But that’s not why she’s shaking her head and looking at him in confusion. 

Wasn’t she just in the rec room with Roy?

Felicity looks towards the windows and sees the ever present light filtering through. Useless. It could be later the same day or the next.. she’s not sure. Looking back at Dr Golov, she tries to remember walking down the hall, leaving Roy, opening the door but it’s all just blank space. 

One minute she’s there and the next she is here. 

Well - that’s scary. 

“Felicity?”

Hands tugging at her cuffs, Felicity shakes her head again. “No.”

She’s firm in that. 

“And why not?”

She should have seen that coming. “Because it’s not important.”

“Not important to who Felicity? To you? I highly doubt that.”

“He lied. It was all a lie. I don’t know who he was or why he said .. those things but it was all a lie.” She doesn’t fully believe that but there’s at least a part of her that doesn’t trust anyone else, so she’ll keep presenting this front. Besides, if there’s a pseudo-Roy then maybe there is a pseudo-Oliver. 

Dr Golov jots a few notes and Felicity thinks for the fiftieth time that she would love to get her hands on that. 

“Are you sure you’re not just scared?”

Felicity huffs a laugh that reminds her of Diggle. “Scared of what? A person that doesn’t exist?”

“That somebody else has left you.”

_ Ouch.  _

She doesn’t say anything and he takes that as an invitation to keep going. “Your mother admitted you but hasn’t been back since, and now Mr Queen has requested to be removed from your contacts. Seems like a pattern for you.”

“You think this,” she makes a gesture but doesn’t stop talking. “Harkens back to my deadbeat dad and his disappearing act? Hardly.”

“Are you sure about that Felicity?”

One of her legs crosses over the other and she raises a brow at him in challenge. Not everything was a daddy issue. 

She’d dealt with those demons long before coming to Starling City. Some aspects would never go away, but to think that her current situation has anything to do with her father is absurd. He never contributed anything to her life before and he doesn’t get the credit for it now. 

Dr Golov tucks his ledger on his lap, sitting back in his seat. He does that sometimes when he is about to drop a nugget of wisdom, she notices, like he’s settling in. 

“Do you want to know what I see, Felicity?”

“By all means.”

“I see a scared little girl that misses her daddy. That has protected herself so much that when she fell in love with a married man began to make up stories rather than risk another person leaving her because she  _ just wasn’t enough.  _ And where has that gotten you? No father, no mother, and Mr Queen left you in the end. Seems like your plan isn’t really working out like you thought.”

There he goes again with the “Oliver is married” charade. She just can’t seem to wrap her mind around that. Despite his past, Felicity knows that he would be a great husband if he had a chance. If everything that had happened to him just hadn’t happened then maybe he’d let himself be happy. To have happy stories.

Felicity averts her eyes, her thumb swiping at an errant tear on her cheek. When she speaks, she has to swallow and restart to push the words out. “I think we’re done for now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you for the comments, kudos, and just reading! 
> 
> I own nothing. Not even a beta so all mistakes are mine.

\- - - -

  
Felicity stopped counting the days. Between the napping and the daylight, it was futile. Instead, she sits on her bed and replays the last session she’d had - when she’d cut out early.

It’s not like she’s unaware of the scars her father inflicted when he left her and her mother. She knows they influence her decisions and relationships. Her insecurities replay in her head whenever she finds herself getting a little too close.

_Everybody leaves. Break up with them before they inevitably break up with you. Don’t get attached; it won’t hurt when they walk away. At least it’ll hurt less._

She’s also acutely aware that he was only the first to do so. She didn’t need Dr Golov to point that out to her. 

Hadn’t Cooper decided that no life was better than fighting for the one that they had?

Felicity’s life before Oliver blundered his way in had been safe. While she rewatched The I.T Crowd on Netflix, she’d tinker with processors, hard drives, and coding. As far back as she could remember, Felicity had been an indoor kid. Solo. She didn’t go out with friends, maintaining a healthy distance with anybody that she met. It had been Oliver and his stupid list that had pulled her from the mundane. Until him, she’d revolved around her work and little more. While her life held more danger, he’d brought purpose, meaning, into it and she’d be forever grateful for that. 

It didn’t mean she was blind to his faults, though. He was a runner, and if she allowed herself to give in to her feelings, to give _him_ her heart, he’d run away with it. She wouldn’t survive that. She’s not strong enough for that. So she keeps it locked in a box of barbed wire. Safe from him and anyone else. 

But it’s not what he said about her that has Felicity’s mind working in overdrive. It’s what he said about Oliver. No island, no missing years. His parents are alive. His best friend is alive. He’s married to the love of his life, and he’s going to be a father.

When Felicity woke up here, she was certain about the world that she lived in. That the streets of Starling City, and the life that she loved, was just outside of these walls, untouchable by her. Inside these too-white-walls were people that lied and stole her from the place she felt the safest. 

She’d spent so much time looking for an escape. Calculating the risk of a high fall out the window if she was ever able to get them open. Time formulating a plan that would get her out of here and back home to her makeshift family. 

It never occurred to her that the world outside was actually in her head. 

Maybe if he hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. Maybe if she hadn’t seen him with her own eyes. Maybe if she hadn’t looked into his and watched him do the same. If she hadn’t watched him walk away from her. Maybe then she could brush away everything _inside_ as a lie. A sham. 

But she had and so she couldn’t. 

And it was getting harder and harder to hold onto the belief that everything around her is a fabrication. The belief that the Roy she knows and loves isn’t a figment of her overactive imagination. That her doctor speaks in nothing but half-truths and lies. That she isn’t really all alone in a world that has forgotten her. 

Even more depressing is the knowledge that by shunning that world of isolation, she’s damning Oliver to a life of misery. That somehow she’s in control of his destiny. The boat, the island, the immense loss of life, is in her proverbial hands. 

If she chooses herself, if she continues to operate under the misapprehension that there is an outside world with earthquake machines and vigilantes, Oliver pays and has the scars to show it, but she has him in her life somehow some way. If she chooses Oliver, lets go of the life she thought she’d built for herself, and admits that she made it up, then she loses him forever, but he will have everything he’s ever wanted. Everything _she’s_ ever wanted ( _wished_ ) for him. 

_Happiness._

It’s an unfair choice for any person to have to make. It’s just not one that Felicity has to. There is no choice because, for her, it’s always been Oliver. 

If he were in a burning building, she’d run through the flames to get to him. If traveling through time to stop him getting on that boat meant they were never together, Felicity would volunteer. So, how is this any different?

There is no choice.

And that’s why she ended the session early to race back to these four empty walls that won’t ask her questions.

\- - - -

“Then we run everything _again_!” Oliver’s voice reverberates around the foundry, his fist coming down hard on the medical table. Three sets of eyes stare back at him, unflinching. Lifting his fist, he brings it back down as a much gentler knock with his knuckle. When he speaks, his tone follows the change in demeanor, “We run them again.”

John Diggle steps forward without a word. Nodding his head, his hands moving to rest on his hips, he waits a beat before speaking. “Okay, Oliver. We’ll run everything _again_ for the fifth time.”

Oliver still has the hood on (albeit pushed back) but he’s taken off the mask Barry had made him, so he’s hovering in the liminal space between The Arrow and Oliver Queen. Though John isn’t sure how that’s much different than Oliver’s normal state; floating somewhere in the in between. Kinda how the man’s life was split into pre-island and post-island. Never able to really separate them but neither could they be merged. 

“Is there a problem, John?” 

“No, Oliver. Of course not.” His words are laced with sarcasm. He knows it but he can’t be bothered to dim it. This had been a conversation simmering below the surface for a while now. “We’ll run all of the programs again, and then Roy, Sara, and I will all go out and patrol the same streets. As you can see by all of our success, it’s a great plan.”

“What do you want from me?” He’s not accusing or pointed in tone. It’s an open, honest question. “I’m not going to stop looking for her, so you can get that out of your head.”

In his periphery, John sees Sara shake her head on reflex, a soft, “Ollie” leaves her lips. Nobody here would ever ask that of him or themselves. Felicity is family and she’s been missing for too long. 

“No, not at all.” John’s hand moves from his hip to slice through the air, emphasizing his point. “Nobody is going to stop looking for her. Captain Lance is in touch through Laurel. He gives us anything - _anything_ \- that comes in that could remotely be connected.”

They’d been following so many leads that had been nothing but dead ends. One day she was with them, crying at a funeral for a woman that she didn’t like and didn’t miss, and then she was taken. Taken from the foundry and from them. 

John and her had separated, a decision that seemed harmless at the time because Felicity was going someplace safe. He would go to A.R.G.U.S, see Waller, maybe get some information, and Felicity would be nowhere near the director or her facility. It was something that Oliver would have appreciated, John had thought. Now, it’s a source of tension between best friends. 

What John had done, leaving Felicity unprotected and alone, was unforgivable. They’d promised each other when she joined that they would protect her. He’d failed at that. 

John found Oliver, alone, in a secondary facility. It was unfurnished, damp, and musty. John knew whatever state Oliver was in to pull him away from everyone that cared about him he was about to make it worse. 

_“How did you find me?” Oliver’s voice had lost all effect._

_“Waller.” John knows the younger man would understand why he needed to go to her. John also knew it would be the only thing he understood. “I -_ we _were worried when you weren’t at the funeral.”_

_“I started to go to the cemetery,” came his reply. “I ended up here.”_

_John wanted to ask what here was exactly. How Waller knew he had a secondary lair but the closest people to him were clueless. In the long run, it didn’t matter where they were. It only mattered where_ she _was, and he didn’t have that information._

_“Oliver.”_

_“She’s dead because of me,” he interrupted, pushing himself to stand with a pained grunt. The fight against Slade was taking its toll on everyone but especially Oliver. Physically, he was a wreck. If his already marked body wasn’t covered in bruises and cuts, John would be shocked. Whatever was shown on the outside was amplified ten-fold on the inside._

_Thea being taken, Oliver almost losing his family’s company, Moira being killed in front of him only multiplied the guilt and anger boiling within. Here John was on the precipice of ruining an already damaged man._

_John didn’t say anything in return. Oliver meant his mother, clearly, but those words could hold so much weight in them if…_

_“— and after Slade told me one more has to die before this ends. I’ll turn myself over to him. It ends when he kills me.”_

_… if Slade has her. If they don’t find her. If they find her body._

_“Felicity is missing.”_

John lost control of him after that. Though it was debatable if he really had control in the first place. After all, he did have to go to a secret government agency to find Oliver. 

Oliver was adamant that Slade had taken her. That Slade had seen her when he’d stormed the foundry, seen how Oliver had protected her, and decided that was enough. 

Much to Slade’s delight, they’d followed that rabbit hole all the way to putting Slade underground on Lian Yu.

Still no Felicity. 

They all threw themselves into finding her. John didn’t know the last time he’d slept. Sara refused to leave with Nyssa, and because it was Felicity, Nyssa didn’t put up a fight. She packed up the remaining league members, and was on her way after saying her goodbyes. 

A Mirakuru-cured Roy donned the suit nightly, patrolling the Glades, and keeping his ear to the ground. Between him and Sin, they had information the cops would never get. 

The only person that wasn’t out every night was Oliver. The days of moonlighting as CEO while his main focus was behind the hood were over. Felicity had kept QC in his family and Oliver’s loyalty to her had him working double time to make sure that hadn’t been in vain. While it was his decision, he wasn’t happy about it, and he made sure everyone knew. 

“We need to change our tactics, Oliver. We’ve been doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.”

Since they’d lost whatever lead they thought they had when Slade was cured and dropped into an island max security prison, they’d been vigilantly patrolling the Glades. There were no other leads, so everything became a lead. 

Laurel had taken over the computers in Felicity’s absence, running as many rudimentary programs as she could; facial recognition, bank records, credit cards, anything that could leave a trail. 

No bread crumbs. 

The longer they went without finding any information the more agitated Oliver became. Ever the pessimist, John could only guess at the outcomes Oliver has envisioned. 

The chirp of the electric lock sounds around them. It’s followed by the clink of the door and heels descending the metal stairs. There is a distinct change in tone when Laurel hits the concrete. She’s still dressed in her pantsuit from the office, purse slung over one shoulder with a manila envelope in hand. When she sees the cavalry in front of her, she stops short. 

Her purse slides slowly down her shoulder to land on Felicity’s desk. It doesn’t matter how long she is gone, if she never came back, it will always be Felicity’s desk. Laurel is just borrowing it. 

“Ollie,” she greets hesitantly, envelope bouncing against her open palm. “I thought you had the gala tonight.”

John’s head swivels to Oliver, catching a glimpse of just how exhausted the man was before he corrects his mistake and shutters himself again. He should be gone by now. It’s why her and John had set up this time to go over the plans for the night with everyone else while Oliver is otherwise occupied. The plan hadn’t included Oliver knowing until he needed to but things hadn’t been going to plan so far, why should this? 

“I’m heading out soon. Isabel won’t be there, so she won’t hound me for being late,” he answers brusquely. Things were always tense between Oliver and Isabel Rochev but Oliver’s refusal to hire another assistant in Felicity’s absence had rubbed the co-CEO the wrong way. If she even had a right way. 

“What’s that?” Oliver points to the large envelope in Laurel’s hand, holding his gloved one out for her to give it to him. 

Laurel clears the space between them in a couple steps, nodding with a tight grin to Roy and her sister. “My dad - There’s been a rise in drug activity in the Glades this last week. My dad thought we might be able to take a look into it.”

When her hands are empty, she stands with them crossed over her chest. John can tell that much like himself, Laurel is unsure of how Oliver will react to them working on a case that isn’t directly related to their missing piece. 

Laurel is new to their outfit but John has worked with the Arrow long enough to see his minute changes in demeanor as he reads the report. His brow furrows, shoulders tense, jaw tightens. He looks to Diggle with a scoff of derision, tossing the papers onto the med table. 

“Is this the ‘new direction’ you want to take us? She’s been missing for a month, John. Weeks where God knows what is happening to her and you want to just - just set her aside for .. for .. this.”

Set _her_ aside. Like they could ever. 

John was ready for righteous anger and Oliver yelling about the team’s decision. An angry Oliver he can handle. He’s done it before.

This Oliver? An Oliver that sounds broken with every word. That isn’t yelling but can barely be heard behind all the betrayal laced in his words. This is an Oliver he’s not sure how to navigate. 

There’s a chorus of “Ollie” and “Oliver” as everyone tries to get through to him. 

Diggle’s raised hand quiets the others before he speaks. “They’re just different kinds of leads, Oliver. We’ve ignored the Glades for too long and —“

“Fine,” Oliver interrupts, he’s shuttering again. It is his default state after all. “I have to change and get to the gala. You… do what you want.”

As he turns, John swears he hears a muttered, “You’re going to anyway.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is double the normal chapter length for me. I didn’t plan on ending it at a cliff hanger but if I kept going it’d be triple the length. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. We have so much left to experience, but I’m so excited for y’all to read this! I love your comments and interacting with everyone. Thank you for leaving kudos and just reading it in general. 
> 
> As always - I own nothing. I am my own beta!

\- - - -

As quickly as the Glades had been infiltrated by the new drug, so did it disappear. While Oliver was otherwise occupied glad handing at yet another overpriced charity gala, the rest of the team had hit the ground at a clip. 

Roy and Sara had taken the warehouse district. Laurel kept an eye on anything search related while running comms, and John had taken to canvassing where the overdoses had occurred. Their hope of finding a link was dashed when the crackling of their comms and a familiar voice let them know that Oliver was back in the foundry. 

“It’s the middle of the night, Digg, bring it in. You have a family to get home to.”

Oliver was tired and resigned. They couldn’t find Felicity, couldn’t protect what was left of the Glades, and he couldn’t get his business out of Isabel’s hands. Tonight was supposed to be about that. Show everyone that the mistakes of his parents were not his burden to bear. Nobody was interested in his business acumen. 

While it had been a month since his mother was murdered, it was still the first topic broached. Once she was a pariah, suddenly everyone was “so sorry” for his loss. Nobody mentioned his EA that had gone missing though he felt her absence in everything he did. 

Her desk remained empty while he juggled everything she would normally do. He wasn’t good enough to go above like she would. Felicity had a knack for intuitively knowing what Oliver needed throughout his day, and he felt a vice grip his heart each time he saw her vacant seat. 

They were supposed to protect her, and just like Shado, Thea, his mother, he had failed her. 

Just like he had months ago in Russia. 

So when he’d returned to the base just for Laurel to tell him that the team had nothing to show for their efforts, he’d packed her up and sent her on her way. He’d rather be alone for a little while.

“Same goes for the rest of you. Come home.”

\- - - -

They went out the next night and the next. Three days turned into five and by the time Friday had rolled around again, they had nothing for themselves and nothing for the SCPD.

“You have a meeting with the Applied Sciences Division about the possibility of military contracts being brought to the table again,” Digg’s voice cut through the quiet of Oliver’s office.

It was midday and they’d just returned from lunch (and avoiding Isabel). Meetings had not been what Oliver was thinking about. 

“You should take tonight off,” he replies, sidestepping the entire subject of QC producing weaponry after the Unidac disaster. 

Never again. 

“What?” Digg replies because surely he’d heard that wrong.

“You’ve been at this nonstop for over a month. Go home to your wife and daughter tonight. The rest of us have it covered.”

The birth of John’s daughter two weeks before had been another part of their lives that they’d so deeply felt the vacancy that Felicity had left behind. 

John shook his head, replying without looking at Oliver. “Lyla won’t like that. She knows how important this is.”

Oliver knew how much Felicity meant to Digg. The three of them had been a team for so long they were well-oiled by now. Fights, internally and otherwise, had left them raw and vulnerable, which only brought them closer together when they helped each other heal. 

Then there was the time when Oliver was gone and they’d been left to lean on each other. Neither John nor Felicity had offered to tell him what their lives were like when he was on the island, and he never felt it was his place to question.

“We have the start of a routine, Oliver. Lyla is still on maternity leave, and we will find Felicity before that changes. I need to be out there to do that.”

Oliver nods, scrubbing a hand over his face and hair, as he clears his throat. The emotion stuck there evident in his words. “Yeah, of course, we’ll find her.”

Standing in the doorway to his office, Oliver feels John clap a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. The gesture is simple but says more than words could. 

They were in this together.

When the elevator chimes and heels click-clack across the marble flooring, John steps back and resumes his position at the door. Oliver moves quickly to put a desk between himself and the incoming Isabel. 

“Oliver,” she greets, entirely too cheerfully, breezing past John without a glance. His preference, actually. 

“Isabel.” His reply is short and decidedly unfriendly. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Your meeting this afternoon with Applied Sciences - I need you to listen and take them seriously. This contract would be a huge benefit to QC and to us.”

Oliver huffs a laugh, “There is no ‘us’, Isabel. There’s a ‘you’ and there’s an ‘I’. That’s it. And if you honestly think I’m signing anything weapon related after last year, I overestimated your intelligence.”

“As co-CEO there is an us, and this would show everyone that Queen Consolidated is back on top. Besides, it’s not weaponry.” She rolls her eyes at his reticence. “Just listen to them.”

Not having bothered to take a seat in the first place, Isabel’s exit is easy. Stopping at his door, she turns to look at him. “And Oliver, keep making me look good and Stellmoor will have no choice but to promote me. We’ll never have to see each other again.”

Oliver watches her depart with a look towards Diggle. When his bodyguard signals the closure of the elevator doors, Oliver speaks freely. “She’s either too eager for me to sign, or she’s trying some form of reverse psychology so that I decline. I can’t figure out which it is.”

“She says it’s not a weapon. Then what is it?”

Oliver shrugs, half-heartedly perusing his emails to accept any new meeting requests, rescheduling anything that overlaps. “I should just stick to my gut and cancel.”

“We need knowledge, Oliver. The last time she tried something underhanded you almost lost the company. Go to the meeting, ask questions, refuse to make a decision right there.”

Oliver nods without a response, both falling into a comfortable silence. John is the strategist. His military experience always had him able to plan long term versus Oliver’s ability to think on his feet. They’d been forged differently, made into a weapon through unique experiences.

For the rest of the afternoon, Oliver’s office is quiet save for the tapping of fingers on his keyboard and the periodic rustling of papers. Only when John sticks his head in the doorway to remind him of the time does he stop. 

Traditionally, he’d have his assistant with him to take notes, but Oliver was never one for tradition. In the absence of an EA, he enters the conference room, alone, portfolio in hand. 

“Gentleman,” he greets, shaking hands with the men in charge of the department and those here to represent their best interest. 

Four men in suits watch as Oliver walks to the head of the conference table, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sits. “I’m going to be frank with you all because I think you deserve it. There are many incomplete projects under our belt that will remain unfinished solely because we are not in the business of weapon development. Not after what happened in the Glades. I refuse to jeopardize QC or the community in such a way again.”

He slides his eyes over each man as they look between one another before one of them clears his throat. Slim build with brown hair and tortoise shell glasses, he looks to be much younger than the others. “It’s not a weapon,” he responds, gulping. “Sir.”

“And you are?”

“Dr. Crane - Jonathan Crane, Chief Bio-Chemist.”

“Thank you, Dr Crane. If it’s not a weapon then what are we looking at exactly?”

“Fear,” he answers as if that should answer all of Oliver’s questions. “We are all born predisposed to fear. Did you know that newborns are only afraid of loud noises and falling? It’s built into their bones. As we mature and experience the world that list grows with us. Everyone has something they fear. Some have many. Soldiers in war zones have more than most. What if we neutralize them?”

Oliver knew of fear. He’d felt it to varying degrees since he boarded the Queen’s Gambit. While there were times that he’d been paralyzed by it, more often than not it kept him alert. 

“You want to create super soldiers?” He couldn’t help but draw parallels to the mirakuru siege only weeks before. 

“It doesn’t change their chemical makeup. It only suppresses something that makes them weaker.”

Oliver looks to a gentleman in an untailored suit that’s old enough to be his parent. They’ve been in other meetings together and Oliver knows him. “Mr Vance, what has us going in this direction? Our production is geared toward technology not biochemistry.”

“After Miss Smoak delivered the new strain of vertigo for us to formulate the cure, we’ve been breaking down the components. Very sophisticated product, actually, if handled correctly. As it was, nobody would get past the cognitive effects and withdrawal period.”

“From what I remember, it was highly addictive.”

“That it was. Through trial and error, we’ve found a perfect combination that makes it almost as benign as taking a Tylenol. There’s no need to worry about the effects of withdrawal when the mission is done.”

Oliver taps his pen on his paper, sitting back in his seat. He knew he wasn’t going to like this. “Thank you, gentleman, for meeting with me. I’m going to need all of the information on any trials that have been run, all formulas that you’ve used from start to finish. If - and I mean if - we’re going to move forward with this then I want more data to back us up, and I need to know  _ exactly  _ how it works. I am not my parents and I refuse to endanger anybody for profit.”

Closing his portfolio, Oliver tucks his pen inside before standing to walk around the table and shake hands with each of the men. Instinct is telling him that he needs to know Isabel’s motives before making any decisions.

\- - - -

It’s a full moon, which never fails to bring out the crazies. If anybody knows that to be true, it’s Quentin Lance. He has 30 years of experience and many nights just like this that back him up. 

When Quentin was much younger things weren’t like this. There was no divide between the city and the Glades. In fact, there was a park that the city bus had a stop at where Quentin would meet his friends to toss the ball around before the season started. That was back before the Starling City Transit Authority ceased all stops past the line into the Glades. 

It was back when there was a community pool and rec center that was a popular spot for everybody to congregate. Before the rich became richer and cut off the poor. Sons and daughters fighting in the street because one had a parent that shut down their factory and the other had the parent that lost their job and pension. 

The virus of poverty swept through neighborhoods until the streetlights burnt out and nobody bothered to replace them. Evidence of the disease found in the cracked pavements and steel bars over locked windows. Quentin never knew if those were to keep something in or something out. The oppression from the wealthy festered in families until they collapsed from the inside. Children forced to grow up too soon in order to put food on the tables of their shattered dreams. 

Over time people moved away, abandoning houses, and closing stores, malls, and schools. Without the necessary attendance, which had plummeted from transfers and drop-outs, schools began to shutter one by one. Why pay the salaries of teachers that aren’t being utilized? 

When all of that rot and decay had finished eating away at families and neighborhoods, a mad man came along and sent it crumbling to the ground. What was bad became unbearable. The police stopped responding to calls, ambulances couldn’t get through the rubble and broken streets, and those buildings that had been closed and abandoned were missing chunks or worse. 

And then the siege happened.

Back to back his city had been hit. A lesser one may have taken the punch and caved in defeat but not Starling City. She was built of tougher things. While Quentin had seen the bad, he’d also seen the good. Not for the first time since the Arrow had emerged, Quentin saw possibility. He saw others taking the helm by his side to save a city that offered them nothing in return. 

And starting with a young and too-intelligent-for-her-own-good tech assistant, Quentin had seen inspiration. From the moment she’d plopped her annoyingly perky self in the interrogation room seat, he’d seen the reach the Hood had on the city and the people in it. She’d stared him down in a way that had left him feeling like he’d disappointed her. Like she knew Quentin could be a better person just by letting the vigilante do what he did. Unsurprising to him now that he knew her so much better, she had been right. 

Felicity Smoak had been an unexpected delight and Quentin missed her fiercely. Somewhere between her scolding him at headquarters and the day she’d gone missing, he’d begun to see her as another daughter. He worried about her safety. He was concerned that she was spending all her time underground instead of finding somebody nice to settle down with. Quentin had already felt the loss of a daughter, grieved for Sara every single day. While her return soothed some of those wounds, losing Felicity would snap an already poorly healed break.

Five weeks she’s been missing and Quentin has seen nothing that could resemble a lead. Whoever had her made sure she was locked up tight. The possibility that so much time had passed and they’d find her body rather than  _ her _ was never far from his thoughts. He had 30 years of experience to back him up, and the first 48 wasn’t just a television show. 

“Captain.”

Quentin startles, lost in his thoughts leaning on the retaining wall around the roof. His palm flattens against his chest, “Aw geez. You gotta stop doing that. Take it easy on my ticker next time, alright?”

A noise comes from under the hood that could be a chuckle but it’s distorted from the modulator, which makes it less jovial and more eerie. The Arrow having a sense of humor is bizarre enough. “You said it was an emergency?”

That he did. “Heart attacks,” he answers. “The victims didn’t overdose. They had heart attacks.”

Unable to see his face, Quentin waits until the hood nods as acknowledgement of what the police Captain had said. The handful of victims were all young and shouldn’t have been anywhere close to being in danger of death by myocardial infarction. 

“They were injected with something that induced a heart attack?”

“City coroner doesn’t know about that. We know they took something, or were injected with something, and they had a heart attack.”

“Captain, I think we need to work on your definition of an emergency. There’s nothing here that is going to lead us in the direction of who’s doing this.”

“Okay smart ass,” Lance grunts with a shake of his head. “One of my officer’s was responding to a 5150 and brought in this guy high off his head. He was screaming and throwing himself all around. Made a real mess of the precinct.”

“Lance,” Oliver interrupts with an aggravated tone. “Your point?”

“Public school 141,” he retorts, continuing when he knows He is on Oliver’s last nerve. “When he came down and was lucid again, he said that he got the drugs from a friend of a friend of a friend, you know these kids nowadays, and they were at a school in the Glades.”

Lance holds out the manila envelope for the Arrow to take. “PS141 is in the east part of the Glades. It’s impossible to get anybody over there until they rebuild. Plus, I need a warrant. You and your team can go in there though.”

Taking the offered envelope, Oliver unzips his jacket and tucks it beneath the leather. “We’ll check it out.”

He has his bow up and arrow nocked, ready to fly away when Lance stops him. “Hey.. any news on our girl?”

Quentin has never seen the Arrow defeated, but that question knocks all the wind out of his sails. The bow is lowered and his shoulders slump. Shaking his head, his words stuck in the net of emotion. “We’re still looking.”

He doesn’t know what provokes him to do it, but Quentin has a hand on the Arrow’s shoulder to show his support before he knows it. “Hey. We’ll find her, alright? She’s a tough girl.” Then it’s his turn to clear his throat in order to remove the lump that’s formed there. “You call me the minute you find this scum bag, yeah? I have a team ready and we’ll get there somehow.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” His arrow is loosed and he’s gone before Quentin can get another word in.

\- - - -

Verdant is a mess of people and lights and music, so Oliver enters the foundry through the alley. Laurel is at Felicity’s computers and Thea is standing behind her, hand on the back of Felicity’s seat. After Felicity had gone missing, Oliver couldn’t keep his night life a secret from his sister. Without context, she couldn’t understand why Oliver was so concerned about an assistant that his little sister was certain had run off. 

“Ollie!” She greets, covering the distance to envelope him in a hug. “Laurel said her dad had an emergency?”

Oliver unzips his jacket to retrieve the envelope that Lance had given him. He plops it down in front of Laurel before zipping up again. “I need the whole team on this one, can you round everyone up?”

Laurel’s voice fills the foundry and everyone’s ears as she calls them back for a meeting. It’s just after 11 pm and he needs John to help with strategy because everything in Oliver is telling him to end this tonight. They need a win.  _ He  _ needs a win. They also need to be smart about this because it might be the only chance they get. 

While he waits, he replenishes his arrows, adding empty vials upon Laurel’s suggestion. To collect anything they find, she says. She also hands him an empty USB. 

“Just in case they leave their formula behind,” she adds. “We don’t have Felicity to hack in and get it for us.”

After Slade had revealed his secret to his ex-girlfriend, Oliver thought whatever relationship they had would be destroyed. The opposite had happened. She had jumped head first into the search for Felicity. Even taking Thea under her wing to help the young woman come to terms with the danger when the two most important men in her life went out each night. 

He didn’t think she’d be out in the field any time soon, but there was a comfort in seeing her (both, really) in the lair when he came home. 

“I know you have to go back up,” Oliver says, eyes drifting to the ceiling,words directed at Thea. “I also know you’d rather be down here. Wear this and you can hear what’s going on.” Oliver holds out a comm for her and waits for her to take it before dropping his hand. “We’ll be fine. I’ll make sure Roy comes home to you.”

Thea nods, popping the unit into her ear. “I know, Ollie. I trust you. Thank you for trusting me.”

She’s up the stairs and back in the noise of a packed club when the back door beeps and opens as the rest of the team files in. 

\- - - -

There’s not a lot on the east side of the Glades these days. Given its current state of disarray, not even criminals hang out there. Buildings have turned into rubble, anything left standing is condemned, and Oliver hasn’t even thought that anyone would use it as a base. Which makes it absolutely perfect for anyone wanting to stay under the radar.

They arrive at a school lost in time. What wasn’t destroyed by the earthquake is precarious at best, and he wonders if that isn’t part of the appeal. Lance had been right about the roads being cutoff but Oliver knew they could get a cruiser in and walk the rest once the team was done. 

“Oliver,” Diggle’s voice rings in his ear. “I don’t like the idea of dividing up.”

It had been the plan when they rallied in the foundry, but even Oliver could see why the older man saw need for a change. There was one section caved in, lockers and tables crushed under the concrete and bricks. The other had gaps in the walls that they could see right into the classrooms. 

“I don’t either but it’s too big to move as a unit. We’ll never find them before they run.”

The sigh that came from Diggle is resigned and Oliver knows he agrees. 

Two by two they make their way inside, using one of the unfortunate entrances rather than going in the front door. “Roy and Sara take the first floor. Digg and I will take the top. Keep your eyes out for anything.”

\- - - -

Felicity’s hands brush through her hair, pushing it back behind her shoulders. She’s lucky enough she still has her glasses but getting her hands on an elastic is impossible, so she spends a lot of time keeping it out of her face. 

She doesn’t know the last time she showered.

Days have passed since she chose Oliver’s well-being over her own. Sometimes it’s almost like they run together and others it feels like she jumps over blocks of time in a heartbeat. Traveling from Monday to Thursday in the span of a  _ thump-thump. _

She stops talking to Roy and eventually he stops talking to her. It’s not long before she avoids going to the rec room entirely. Shutting herself off in the room where she lays her head.

Felicity stops pushing her own narrative. Stops fighting against the doctor when she sees him which isn’t often. 

He continues to call her a secretary, and maybe he’s trying to rile her up, but she can’t find it in herself to care enough to correct him. So she doesn’t. 

He thinks she’s faking, and she thinks she’s never felt so empty and why would anyone fake that?

Sometimes the walls are white and sometimes the mottled hues take over and Felicity holds her breath until they vanish again. Feeling a relief she really shouldn’t considering she’s not sure which world is the real one. And she’s startled at the thought that where she feels safest and which world is real might not align. 

When she’s sitting in the chair opposite Dr Golov actively not listening to what he’s saying and the room morphs in front of her, she sucks in a breath. Gone is the white coat and the man that she’s come to recognize. Instead, this person is all scowls and crazy eyes. Her hands in her lap are bound together in leather buckled cuffs, and there’s somebody else in the room that she can’t see. 

“She’s waking up. Give her another dose.” 

The man behind her responds, and he sounds familiar, but his voice is distorted in her haze and she can’t make out what he’s saying. She feels fuzzy. More out of it than normal.

Her eyes clench shut and her fingers curl into fists, a quiet whimper passing over chapped lips because this isn’t supposed to be happening. Her doctor is not a villain. She’s not a damsel in distress. In her madness, Oliver is safe. That’s what she can do for him now and seeing what she’s seeing is not meant to happen. 

Her breath quickens and the voices around her escalate. They don’t know what will happen if they give her more but she begs for it. Whatever they’ve been giving her, whatever makes the walls white and Roy by her side, she begs for more. Her words strangled and broken as she pleads for it to stop. For them (whoever they are) to shut it all down. ‘“Please!” 

_ Oh god, please.  _

An alarm sounds in the room cutting off her pleas. 

“What’s that?” A man appears in her periphery, dressed all in black tactical gear. He matches the man in front of her and both look familiar like she’s seen them once in a dream. 

“Somebody’s here.” She recognizes the sound of keyboard keys and then he swears under his breath. “I’ll get her back to her room. You two find them. I was never here!”

She’s gliding across the floor and through the doorway as the two men head off in opposite directions. She doesn’t recognize her surroundings at all. She’s spent so much time retracing her steps past the nurses station, past the rec room, but this isn’t any of those. It takes her too long to realize at the speed they’re going and the way the surroundings are flying past her, she’s in the damn wheelchair again. 

“Somebody fucked up, Felicity.” He answers behind her. “They’re not supposed to be here. Not yet.”

“Doc?” She’s parched. Her throat raw and voice quiet. “Who’s here? What’s going on?”

He stops and opens a door and she’s inside without an answer to her question. He raises the sleeve of her shirt, her eyes traveling sleepily to where the needle presses into her skin. She doesn’t want it now, whatever it is. She’s starting to feel clear and she just knows in her whole being that this is going to take that clarity away.

“You can’t trust him, Felicity. You know that. He’s not the man you think he is. Now, close your eyes and find Roy.”

Her eyes drift shut and he’s lifting her to deposit her on the bed, cuffs still in place. 

“What color are the walls?”

‘White.”

‘Where is Roy?”

“The rec room. At our table.” Is that right, she thinks. Shouldn’t he be with Thea?

“Talk to him, he misses you. You’ve been avoiding him. You should apologize. I’ll be back soon and we’ll have another chat.”

The squeaky wheels of the cart fill her ears and she doesn’t know if he takes it with him when he leaves or not. The heavy clunk of the door tells her he’s gone but she can’t open her eyes to verify. The image in her head keeps bouncing between the darkened walls and a boy in a red hoodie. 

“You’ll never believe the dream I had,” Felicity starts, finding her usual chair vacant. She sits and cocks her head at Roy who looks angry. “I think my meds aren’t working any more.”

“Wake up, Felicity,” he snarls. When she just looks at him in confusion, he growls at her, screaming in her head. “Wake the fuck up!”

And she does. With a gasp, her eyes fly open and all she can hear is her own sobbing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are blowing me away with the comments and kudos and just reading this in general. It means so much that you’re allowing me to be just a little part of your free time. Thank you!
> 
> I own nothing/I have no beta. All mistakes are mine!

\- - - -

“You okay?” Diggle asks in a whisper. 

They’ve cleared three rooms though the second might not count since they opened the door to see the desks and chairs had found their way to the lower level. Technically, it was Roy and Sara’s problem now. 

Oliver covers John’s six while the older man opens the door to the next classroom unsure what he’s getting at. “I’m fine. I just want to catch this guy.”

John has his gun out, safety off, as he enters the room to sweep it before announcing it’s all clear. It’s nearly 12:30 am and God knows how long they’ll be there if they have to clear every single room. “Just curious. Your history with schools is spotty at best. Wanted to check and make sure you weren’t ready to flee.”

There’s a chuckle over the comms before Sara’s voice cuts through. “He’s got you there, Arrow.”

“Even in high school you spent more time skipping class than actually going.” 

Oliver gives Digg an exasperated look before replying, “Et tu, Laurel?” The moon is allowing for more light in the darkness of the halls than usual and Oliver can see the outline of John’s body moving ahead of him. His shoulders clearly bouncing as he laughs. 

“If we can please focus. What do you have for me, Laurel? Anybody with us?”

“I can bring up the blueprints from the city, Oliver. I can’t redirect a satellite for heat signatures.” Her tone, and the use of his full name, suggests he should know that but he’s used to not even having to ask. 

They’re about to the fifth door, jokes dropped for now, when Roy cuts into the quiet. “Arrow,” he breaths, his voice hushed. “We’ve got company.”

Oliver stalls at the door, arrow nocked and aimed down the hallway where they’d just been. “We’re on our way.”

He moves swiftly down the hall with Digg following close behind him. Sara speaks in a whisper, filling the group in on what they’re rushing into. “Two guys in tactical gear. They definitely look trained.”

“Where are you?” He’s down the stairs on the ground level, slowing as he gets closer to where the rest of his team is hiding. 

“Cafeteria. They know we’re here, Arrow, just not where.”

With deliberate steps, Oliver passes by blue lockers and display cases with toppled trophies and plaques. When he rounds the corner, he knows immediately that he’s in the right place. Two large men, over six feet and obviously heavy lifters, are approaching from the opposite direction. 

They see each other at the same time, so when Oliver lets loose the arrow he had readied, one of the men deflects it with a semi-automatic. Both men lift their weapons, firing down the hall towards John and Oliver. Oliver dives over the nearest table, pulling it with him to block the spray of bullets. He nocks another arrow from his quiver, firing it back towards the pair with precision. 

There’s a flurry of movements after that. Sara emerges with her staff, running to catapult off the nearest table and easily gliding into an aerial before landing in front of one of them. Her staff sweeps the floor at his feet, knocking him off balance but not to the floor. 

Too close for a gun fight, Diggle holsters his weapon and moves into hand to hand combat alongside an engaged Roy. Oliver having taken up the mantle alongside Sara. Grunts and groans fill the room as punches land on either side. Their opponents are losing steam until a noise distracts all four of them. It’s the crackle of a speaker and a strangled, “ _ Oliver _ ” that draws everyone’s attention. 

Felicity’s cries fill the room, surrounding them as they lose the ground they had before they were caught off-guard. Oliver takes a blow to his stomach that knocks the air out of him. He doubles over with a heavy grunt. It’s Sara that counters with her own series of hits, using her staff to block the fists and punches coming at her. She spins, blocking another punch before twisting her body and spinning the staff in the air just to bring it down across the man’s face with a loud  _ thwack. _

When he falls to the ground, Oliver has recovered his breath but is lost in the crackling of the overhead speakers that are broadcasting Felicity’s voice.

_ “Please don’t go.” _

When he looks up, everyone is staring at him as he stands in the middle of the room, bow by his side. Both men are unconscious on the floor, and he hasn’t moved from the spot. He can’t. She’s hurt, or worse, and she’s calling for  _ him. _

“Ollie?” Laurel’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Is that..?”

She can hear everything from the safety of the lair. The gunshots and the fighting and now Felicity. 

Pulling himself together, Oliver grabs flex cuffs from one of the pockets in his suit, moving to restrain both men. “Find her!” He hasn’t felt this unhinged since he learned that she was missing. With every sob that fills the halls, he can feel the adrenaline rise in his body. 

John is at his side to assist in Oliver’s task. “If she’s here we’ll find her.” The implication being that she might not be here. 

Before they had moved methodically, room by room, but now there’s a frenzy to their searching. When her voice loops, they know it’s a recording but that doesn’t stop them. Doors are kicked in, rooms are cleared, but none of them contain Felicity. 

Oliver retraces his steps to the cafeteria where Roy is watching over the still unconscious men. He grabs an arrow from his quiver and holds it tightly in his fist as he stalks toward them. Kneeling in front of one, he raises the arrow and brings it down hard into the meat of his thigh. The man awakens with a scream of pain that only increases when Oliver twists his wrist.

“Tell me where she is?” He’s not roaring in rage. This isn’t Oliver acting out but instead a calculated move. He’s purposely missed the artery that runs through his leg, and while he’ll walk with a limp, he’ll still walk. 

He’s met with a bloody grin and a snarl, “You’ll never find her. What’s left of her.”

With an angry cry, he yanks the arrow out and has it raised to plunge back in when Roy grabs him from behind. “Hey! Don’t listen to him. We’ll find her. She wouldn’t want you doing this.”

Roy’s grip loosens when he’s sure that Oliver is back to himself. The arrow clatters to the ground and there’s a grunt before the man falls unconscious from Oliver’s blow to his face. 

“Oliver. I found something.” Felicity’s voice and cries stop as Diggle’s comes through the comms. 

Oliver is on his feet in a blink, “Where?”

Diggle directs him to the principal’s office and when Oliver comes through the door he sees an entire security set up with two monitors. Both are a grotesque green of night vision, one screen showing an empty chair, and the other an empty room with a single bed. There’s a bundle on the bed but Oliver can’t make out what it is. 

“Is this live?” 

“I think so but it could be broadcasting from anywhere.”

“We need to find that room.” She was here. They wouldn’t have played this hand if she wasn’t here. They could have let him think it was just the drugs and nothing more, but somebody wants him to know they have her. 

John’s eyes haven’t left the screens, squinting at the bundle on the bed. “I think … Oliver… I think she’s in there. On the bed.”

Oliver pulls the USB that Laurel had given him from his jacket and practically throws it at Diggle. “I want anything you can fit on here. Save it all. We take it with us. Make sure it’s stopped recording before we get in there. Laurel, pull up the blueprints and find me anything that could be a hidden room. She has to be here.”

Oliver makes to walk out the door when John stops him with a grip to the forearm. “Where are you going?” 

“I have ways of making people talk.” John knew that. They’d been together when the brotherhood had asked Oliver to kill a man just for information. Oliver couldn’t imagine Diggle believed that was the worst he’d done. 

“Is that what you were doing earlier? When Roy had to stop you.”

Oliver’s fingers clench into a fist. “We weren’t even supposed to be here, Digg. This was something entirely unconnected from her and we’ve never been closer to finding her. I will do whatever -  _ whatever _ \- it takes to find her. There is no door, no person, no act that will stop me from bringing her home today.”

\- - - -

Felicity awakens with a gasp, her own sobbing the only sound she hears. It’s faint and not directly wherever she is, which also means it is not actually coming from her. Something small to take comfort in. She can hear her own pleading words and remembers the time when Oliver had shown up just to leave her. Just when it starts to end, it loops back over itself starting anew. Her hands move to cover her ears, muffling the sound until it’s almost entirely gone. Then, it is gone and silence fills the darkness around her.

Felicity’s eyes are open but the room itself is so dark she still can’t see anything of value. She raises her head slowly and looks around the room. It’s not the white walls that she’s used to but the window with faint moonlight is exactly the same as hers. Exactly the same except it’s night time. Felicity can’t remember the last time she saw a night sky. 

Her head lowers to the mattress and her eyes close despite her protests. She thinks she must have fallen asleep because when she opens them next it’s to a commotion outside of the door. There are muffled voices and for the most fleeting of moments, Felicity swears she can see his outline in the frosted glass window. 

“This door is locked… no I can pick it… you’re sure the cam - fine, I’ll stop asking.” Felicity can hear one half of an already hushed conversation and she swears it sounds exactly like.. but it couldn’t be him. He’s safe and tucked away in a secure building downtown with his family and away from her and her fantasy world. 

When the door bursts open, Felicity screams and scrambles to the corner of the bed in the farthest corner from the door. She moves slower than she thought she would normally and her entire body is aching from even that much physical exertion. 

She stares at the dark figure in front of her and they stare back unmoving. There’s a rustling in the hall behind him that pulls a whimper from her and she grabs the pillow to clutch to her chest. Something to put between this aberration and her. 

“Felicity?” His voice is so quiet, his modulator turned off, and she’s been in this exact same position before with him saying her name in the same way. “It’s her. Laurel, call your dad and patch him through.”

Her lip trembles at the name, a tear sliding down her cheek. She can barely see him in the shadows, but she doesn’t think he’s dressed for the office. She recognizes the outline of the hood, his quiver peaking over his shoulder. 

“Felicity? It’s Oliver.” His hands are held out in front of him, palms open and up, as he takes another couple of steps into the room. It’s supposed to be non threatening but she knows his hands are a weapon in themselves. 

The closer he gets the faster her heart races. She can hear the way it pulses in her head. Felicity stares as he moves toward the bed. One step and then another and she’s moving as far back as she can before her back connects with the wall. He stops abruptly and when her gaze swings to where the noise had come from earlier, his follows. 

Two more people enter the room. The one dressed in all black with a butter yellow wig gasps loudly upon entering the room. The other adorned in blood red follows shortly and she can tell he’s taking in as much of the room as he can. 

“— And Captain, she needs an ambulance. Got it.” 

Felicity doesn’t realize he has been talking until she hears the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes move between the trio with a mix of bewilderment and confusion. Oliver hasn’t moved further into the room since her retreat had stopped him. When she swallows thickly and moves to hug the pillow tighter, the leather cuffs squeak with her movements. 

Lifting the hood back, she can see his face for the first time, but when the leathers are gone and he’s standing in a tailored suit, her body is wracked with a sob. Clenching her eyes closed, Felicity takes a few breaths before opening them again to see a trio of concerned faces, and Oliver back in his hood. 

“Hey,” he shushes hers softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We need to get those off though, okay?”

Oliver steps toward the bed and immediately Felicity shakes her head. “No!” Her voice is raspy and it hurts to talk. “No,” she says again, reaffirming her position. Nobody was going to touch her. 

“Okay,” he answers without hesitation. “We’ll stay over here.” Oliver looks to Sara who is staring straight at Felicity, and then to Roy who has finished his appraisal of the room and looks  _ mad _ . Mad is good. An angry Roy is something she is familiar with. 

“I’m sorry I stopped visiting you,” she whispers, taking him in. “Are you okay?”

Roy steps to the side and glances at Oliver almost as if asking for permission to speak. “It’s okay. I’m fine. More worried about you.”

Felicity slides down to lay on the bed, beckoning him forward until Roy sits cross legged on the floor in front of her, his face even with hers. “You won’t believe the dreams I’ve had.. I don’t think my meds are working any more.”

Roy looks over his shoulder towards Oliver before bringing his gaze back to her. Before he can respond, she’s speaking again. “I think I’ve already said that to you. Have I already said that to you? Roy, why are you with Oliver? You hate Oliver.”

“We have our moments,” he answers only one of her questions because he honestly doesn’t know how to answer the other. “Tell me about your dream.”

Felicity blinks slowly as she studies him. She’s just so damn tired and knows her next session will be a doozy. Her doctor will not be pleased that she’s back to this again. Sighing, she blinks but her eyes remain closed for a while before they sleepily flutter open again. “You have to promise you won’t tell. He’ll be so mad.”

Roy nods in agreement. “Okay, but you gotta get some rest after you tell me, okay?”

She nods and leans ever closer, lowering her voice, “We’re in it.”

\- - - -

“Ollie,” Laurel’s voice breaks the silence that had permeated the room since Felicity fell asleep. Nobody is sure what to say and instead opt to say nothing. “My dad will be there soon, you’re gonna have to get out of there.”

He’s pacing the room, one eye on Felicity at all times. He knew when they found her it wasn’t going to be pretty. She’d been missing too long for it to be anything else, but he never imagined this. There are bags under her eyes like she hasn’t slept in weeks. She’s lost weight, but not only is she thinner, she’s frail looking. Anything physical, he can fix. He’ll feed her soup, and she’ll get as much sleep as the day will allow. It’s whatever was done to her mentally he can’t remedy. 

“John, leave the guys upstairs for Lance and get whatever those computers had stored to the foundry. Roy and Sara will go with you.” He looks pointedly at them both but only Roy returns it. Sara is tucked down close to Felicity combing her fingers through her long blonde strands. “I’ll talk to Lance.”

That he wasn’t going to leave her alone went unsaid. Finding her had been as close to a miracle as Oliver could imagine. There had been no reason for them to look here. If it hadn’t been for John “suggesting” they get back to the days of taking the cases that came up and helping where they could, they wouldn’t have found her. Oliver is certain of that. 

He’s crouching in the shadows, hood up, eyes trained on a still sleeping Felicity when Captain Lance and his brigade of officers show up. Everyone else has left to head back to the foundry to wait for the call that will have them all gathering in the hospital waiting room.

Oliver’s stormy blue eyes flick to the door when it creaks open on rusty hinges. “I’ll be goddamned,” Quentin breathes when the lights from the hall fall on her frail form. He watches the man take a deep shaky breath before releasing it in one quick whoosh. “Who had her?”

Oliver shrugs but Quentin can’t see him. His voice modulator is flicked back on so his words come out an octave or two lower when he speaks, “He got away. Those two upstairs weren’t doing all of this on their own.” He knew there was another in charge. The idiots a floor above were the muscles, not brains. Plus, Felicity herself had said enough despite not being particularly lucid.  _ He’ll be so mad. _ “There was a recording of her…”

Oliver swallows at the memory of hearing her voice through the speakers for the first time. He’d thought somebody was hurting her, and then he realized that he was that somebody though he didn’t know how. There’d be time to suss that out later. “It was just so loud, blaring through all of the loudspeakers. The mission changed and finding her became the priority. We searched top to bottom. If they were storing the drugs here, they’re gone now. Along with the person responsible for taking her.”

“Son,” Quentin begins, stepping forward and clapping Oliver supportively on the shoulder. “Nothing changed. Miss Smoak has always been our priority. Don’t start thinking otherwise. 

He moves away from Oliver into the stream of light to brush a hand over the crown of Felicity’s head like he’d done to his own girls so many times. She doesn’t even stir as the police Captain tries to wake her. “The ambulance is outside. You need to get out of here so my guys can come in. I’ve gotta make a phone call to the person that reported her missing.”

Quentin doesn’t elaborate but Oliver knows that it’s him. When days had passed and he knew they needed more than what his team could provide, he’d called the SCPD as a boss concerned about his employee. As soon as it was filed and official, Quentin had personally taken over. 

Oliver adjusts his bow on his way to the door, hesitating in the frame as he keeps his eyes on her sleeping form. “She’s scared and not making any sense. Please.. just don’t leave her alone.”

“I’ve got her now. She’ll need you at the hospital. Get outta here.” 

\- - - -

Oliver’s bike is parked not too far away, so he races back to the foundry to change back into his suit. Throwing open the door, he’s engulfed by a warm embrace from a sprightly person. 

“You found her,” Thea muffles against his shoulder, holding him tight. Oliver wraps his arms around her, returning her affection with his own. Even when his own demons had him thinking of the worst, Thea had never waivered. She had been adamant from the jump that he would find her. “I knew you would. Didn’t I tell you?”

Oliver pulls back, smiling down at her. “Is this really the time for ‘I told you so?’”

With a kiss to his cheek, his little sister steps back, arms clasped around herself but grinning broadly. It still amazes him after everything she’s been through that she’s still capable of being that happy. He wonders if Felicity hadn’t gone missing and Thea hadn’t made the decision to stay home with him rather than leaving with Malcolm if she’d still smile that large. Or at all. 

His ringing phone pulls his attention and he retrieves it from an inner pocket. “Detective?” There’s a pause before Oliver responds, “My apologies, Captain, it’s the middle of the night. What do you - where is she? How..how is she? Okay, thank you, I can be there in twenty.”

He ends the call, unzipping his jacket to remove it entirely. “She’s in the ambulance. Hasn’t woken up. They think she was drugged with something that has her out for this long. She’s on her way to Starling General. I’ve gotta change and get there.”

Oliver is in a fresh suit and almost out the door before he stops abruptly. John had left before Oliver even made it back to Verdant, opting to fill Lyla in on everything in person, but everyone else is still there. He nearly forgot in his rush to get in and out. “Umm,” he stalls unsure what to say. The keys to the Bentley in hand, he spins the keychain on his finger before clasping them in his fist. “You guys should go home. It’s been a long night, and you’ve all earned some rest.” He gives a curt nod and then looks at his sister. “Thea, will you come with me?”

Thea’s still dressed like a woman that owns a nightclub, black pantsuit with an emerald green silk camisole beneath the blazer. The both of them together exude power and Oliver knows their name will go a long way to ensure Felicity gets the absolute best care possible. And he just wants her with him for this. Without a word, Thea is slipping out from Roy’s arm to follow her brother up the stairs and into the now vacant Verdant. 

\- - - -

When Felicity stirs awake again it’s much quieter than the last time. There are no vigilantes running around, no crying, nothing but the rhythmic beeping of a machine. With a groan, she raises her hand to her forehead, the light already too much despite not having opened her eyes. 

There’s a creaking next to her bed and she expects to see her doctor when she opens her eyes. Maybe Roy told him that she was slipping again. Maybe she told him. To hear him talk, she was apparently a Chatty Cathy but can’t remember ever telling him anything of meaning. What she doesn’t expect when she relents and finally opens her eyes is to see Oliver’s concerned face. 

He looks better than her memory could ever do justice, and the emotion that swells within her takes her breath away. She takes in his appearance and her eyes fall to the grey suit, memories of all the times before when he’d broken her heart slamming into her. He’d already told her that he was staying away. He’d requested to be removed from her visitors list. Why is he back now?

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling the chair closer to the bed. 

Felicity opens her mouth to speak but the words get caught in her throat. It takes a couple tries before she can get them out. “What are you doing here?” 

Her words hit him hard and she watches the emotion he can’t hide from her glide over his features. When he opens his mouth to answer, Felicity raises a hand to stop him. “It doesn’t matter why you’re here. You need to leave, Oliver. You were right before, I’m not your girl, I’m not your family. You have Laurel and the baby and there’s no place for me in that.”

“Felicity, I don’t know what you’re —“

“Just let me go,” she says abruptly, turning so she’s facing away from him. “You come around when it’s convenient for you. Telling me that you don’t know what I’m capable of… that I  _ scare _ you. I don’t know why you’re here but you need to leave. Now.”

Felicity sniffles and swipes the tears from her cheeks. Just when she thinks that she’s cried too much and has nothing left, something else happens that has them falling again. When she doesn’t hear the chair moving or footsteps across the floor, she clenches her eyes shut. “Please.”

Last time had been on his terms. She’d allowed herself to hope and it had crushed her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. When she hears the legs of the chair scraping against the floor and the quiet squeak of his shoes on the floor, she allows herself to look. The drapes are drawn over the window but she can see a faint outline of him stopping to talk to somebody on the other side of the door.

Felicity turns back over, facing the wall and closing her eyes to block out the too bright lights in the room. If she sleeps it’s the opposite of restful. Her thoughts are consumed with images she can’t explain and some that frighten her. She can see Dr Golov in his coat sitting across from her, questioning her about all the progress she’s lost. She can see Roy in his red hoodie sitting at their table in the rec room but when she looks again, he’s suited up and sitting criss cross on the hard concrete in front of her. 

She talks but he doesn’t answer. Sometimes she’s talking to nothing, just an empty chair and musty air. She sees Oliver with his wedding ring glinting off the light in her room like they were right back in that moment when he’d left her there.

_ “You can’t trust him, _ ” the voice had told her, and hadn’t he proven as much?

When she opens her eyes again, the walls are back to the pristine white and the beeping has ceased. She’s looking up at a ceiling she doesn’t recognize but it’s the voice that resonates with her.

“Felicity.. tsk tsk,” he clucks his tongue at her reproachfully. “You really did it this time.”

“I’m not in the mood,” she answers, pushing herself to sit with a heavy grunt, sliding her glasses up her nose. Everything hurt in a way it hadn’t before. She was always tired but now her body just aches. Pouring herself a glass of water from the pink plastic pitcher, she drinks slowly and it’s the first time she can remember doing so in so many weeks. 

“Don’t think you can get out of this that easily. You’re hallucinating again. Surely you know that.”

“What I know is that I had a dream. A very real, very tangible dream, but still a dream.”

“A dream,” Dr Golov scoffs. “I don’t believe you believe that for one second.”

She can feel the frustration rising within her with each word. She just wants to be left alone and nobody is allowing her to do that. “Stop talking.” Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pushes herself to stand, gripping the edge to keep from keening forward and face planting on the hospital floor. 

He doesn’t stop, though. He berates her for letting it get this far. For letting all of their work just fizzle away until the Arrow and his crew have infiltrated her recovery.

“Stop talking...just stop… enough.,” she repeats over and over but he continues until he’s pushing her over the edge of how much she can handle. Turning on her heel, she slams her hands down on the bed and yells, “Stop! Talking!”

Except when she looks at the chair he had been sitting in, nobody is there. It’s completely empty as is the rest of the room. A room that no longer looks like the one she was in but instead has a television on the wall and glass windows covered by a sheer curtain. She can still see the feet of people as they walk by. 

Whipping her head around, she’s forgotten about her headache and body aches, and knows he must be in this room somewhere. He was just here, wasn’t he? She slowly walks to the wide window opposite the door, using the wall as her crutch as she traverses the seemingly endless room. It feels so much bigger than the one she’d been in for so long.

It’s daytime and the sun is high in the sky. From her vantage point, she can almost see the entire city sprawled in front of her.

_ “Felicity _ .” His voice comes to her again and she whips around expecting him to have emerged from wherever he was hiding but there’s nobody else in the room. A room that she doesn’t remember how she got to but knows it’s Starling General. Her palm on the wall, Felicity slides down until she’s sitting on the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wraps her arms around them, staring at the door. 

Great. Now she’s seeing people, or maybe she always was. Maybe she is actually certifiable.

She doesn’t know how long she’s sitting there before somebody opens the door and enters the room. She blinks at Oliver in his jeans and maroon henley but her eyes don’t follow him as he closes the door behind him. She stares through him at first and then when he moves out of her eye-line, she stares at the hospital door. 

He doesn’t speak as he comes further into the room until he’s standing beside her, sliding to the floor facing her. He’s sitting cross-legged with his arms in his lap. She’d been sitting there, replaying as much as she could, and Felicity could not remember touching anybody. Oliver had stopped her before getting too close, and she’d stopped team Arrow for the same reason. Now she wonders if that doesn’t mean more now that she doesn’t know if she can trust her own sense of sight.

Swallowing thickly, Felicity closes her eyes, a tear tracing a path down her cheek. “I can see you.” Taking a deep breath, her lip quivers as she reaches a hand out to him. When she feels his arm against her fingertips, she wraps her hand around his forearm, squeezing tightly as she works her way down to his hand. “I can feel you.” Her fingers move over his hand slowly, grazing his palm, and gripping each finger knuckle by knuckle. A sob of relief leaves her when she doesn’t feel a wedding ring. And she knows that this is  _ her _ Oliver. Finally. Her voice breaks and another tear hangs on her lashes. “Please tell me you’re real.”

His other hand covers hers and raises it to place a soft kiss to her fingers. Taking one away, he cups her cheek, brushing her free flowing tears with his thumb as she leans into his touch. “I’m real. You’re safe, Felicity.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, kudos, and reading. It means so much that you are enjoying this story. 
> 
> I don’t own any rights to Arrow/ I beta myself.

\- - - -

  
Thea held Oliver’s hand from Verdant to the Starling General parking garage. From the garage to the Emergency Room lobby, and in the lobby as they sat waiting to be told that they could finally see this person they cared for so deeply. A person that Thea had yet to meet but had come to mean so much to the people she loved the most. 

When Felicity had gone missing, before Oliver had told her the truth about who he was and what he had been doing for the last two years, Roy had been the one to tell her stories. 

“She’s a genius, Thea,” he had said without a hint of irony or humor. “And she can be a bit..I dunno..vibrant, I guess. One time,” he laughed and Thea watched transfixed as her boyfriend told her about the time he caught her singing in the office. His smile faded as he ended his tale. “She is the nicest person I’ve met.” 

He’d said it with so much conviction that Thea knew he wasn’t exaggerating. She was certain that Felicity was a nice person, a good assistant, but a colorful personality and kindness didn’t explain why her brother was taking this harder than their mother’s death. 

It hadn’t been her intention to confront Ollie, but after days of him not coming home, and Roy staying out all nights working with the Arrow, she had just gotten fed up. Her mother had died and she was left alone in a house that had become too large and too quiet. 

_ Five days after their mother’s funeral (a funeral he had missed), Oliver came home after work. When the front door slammed shut, Thea came out of the kitchen.  _

_ “Where have you been?” _

_ Hearing her voice, Oliver froze. “Thea, I’m not in the mood.” _

_ Thea crossed her arms over chest and raised her brow at him. “You did not just say that to me.” She’d never felt this angry before. Even when he came back from the island and continuously told her lies, she still understood that he’d gone through something that she would never understand. This was something they were supposed to be going through together, and he’d left her all alone.  _

_ When he sidestepped to keep walking towards the stairs, she moved around to stand in front of him. “Our mother just died, Oliver! And you’re gone all the time. And for what? Your missing assistant? You are the only family that I have left and you don’t even care!” _

_ Thea watched him start and stop his words, but nothing came out, lost for what to say to her.  _

_ “That’s all you’ve got for me? You barely know her!” _

_ “Don’t… Thea, there’s so much that you.. I can’t do this right now.” _

_ Thea could feel the anger bubbling in her stomach until it all just spilled over. “I’m done, Ollie. Malcolm wants me to go with him to Monte Carlo and I’m going to take him up on his offer.” _

_ Oliver’s eyes widened and he reached out to touch her but she shirked his attention. “Thea.. “ _

_ “No. You know how to fix this but you won’t. Not can’t - won’t - and it’s unacceptable. I am tired of coming home to an empty house. I’m tired of my brother ignoring me for somebody he just met.” Thea took a deep breath and brought her hands together in front of her. “Listen, from what Roy says I think her and I would get along, and I understand that you are invested in finding out what happened to her, but you do that by filing a missing person report. You don’t do it by staying out all night, doing God knows what, to find a person that maybe just took some time for themselves.” _

_ “Thea, please.” His tone suggested that he was teetering on the edge. “When we find her, I’ll explain everything, I promise, but she didn’t just runoff.” _

_ When Thea walked back to the kitchen that she’d emerged from Oliver was pretty sure that he’d really lost his chance to explain. That she’d made her decision and this was the end of their conversation. When she came back with an already packed suitcase, he was certain that he’d lost his chance.  _

_ “Unless you explain to me right now, this instant, I’m leaving with my father.”  _

_ Oliver’s shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply. She could see the weariness settle over him. “I can’t just tell you. I have to show you.” _

_ So, Thea dropped her suitcase and they left together. The drive was quiet and thick with tension. He was resigned to doing something that he didn’t want to do, and she was angry that the only way he would let her in was by force.  _

_ He pulled into Verdant’s empty parking lot and Thea was sure he could see her confusion. This was a building that she had been in numerous times before and she didn’t see how it was some grand reveal. They walked together into the building and she followed him to the door that never opened. Except this time, he entered a passcode and the heavy clunk of the lock shifting echoed in the industrial building.  _

_ There had been no reason for her to come down here. It had been flooded before the earthquakes, and Thea had always assumed that hadn’t changed. The first thing she noticed was the musty basement smell that assaulted her. Probably from the flooding. Oliver took her hand to lead her down the metal stairs letting go when they reached the bottom. Surprisingly, her feet remained perfectly dry.  _

_ Apparently there wasn’t any flooding. _

_ Thea didn’t know what she had expected but when the lights flickered on and the display cases of arrows, bows, and uniforms came into view, she was utterly speechless. Looking to her older brother, he gave her a slight nod of his head as an invitation for her to look around.  _

_ Her fingers trailed over the instruments and tough leather. She picked up an arrow and could see the marks of hand carving in the sharpened tip. Placing it back in the vacant spot, she stepped in front of a case that held a red suit that reminded her of her boyfriend’s red hoodie. She didn’t know how long she walked around quietly surveying what was laid out in front of her before Oliver began speaking.  _

_ “When I came back from the island, I had a mission, and I have done everything I can to keep the people I care about safe. This is how I’ve been doing it.” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, but Thea couldn’t place why it was there. _

_ “You’re him. You’re the vigilante.” Looking back over her shoulder, her fingertips grazed over the back of the swivel chair and over the edge of the computer desk, and Oliver flinched.  _

_ Nodding, his head dipped to his chest and she could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke. “It’s not just me. John joined not long after I got back, and Felicity…” He took a deep breath, “Felicity saved my life more than once.” _

_ “Every time you lied or ran off… when we thought you were just partying and messing up like before.. you were actually saving everyone?” _

_ Oliver nodded but didn’t say anything. What could he say?  _

_ Thea moved towards him, her eyes trained on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” _

_ “Thea, I never wanted you to be dragged down with me. The things that we do are dangerous and sometimes people die. I thought you’d be safer if you never knew..” Oliver trailed off, looking anywhere but at his sister, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes.  _

_ Thea cleared the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to hug him tightly. By the way his muscles tensed, she knew he hadn’t expected it. “Thank you, Ollie.” With just those words, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her in return. “For so long, I wished that I could say that to the Arrow, and all this time, he’s been right here in front of me. Thank you.” _

_ With a quick kiss to his cheek, she pulled back, wiping at the stray tear in her eye. “Now, tell me about Felicity. She saved your life, so I would like to know everything you want to tell me.” _

_ And tell her he did. They sat in the foundry for hours while he explained how he met Felicity, how she saved his life after their mother shot him, and how she’d saved his life so many times since then. She asked what happened the day of his mother’s trial when the verdict was supposed to come back and he’d run off.  _

_ He told her about the Count and how he’d threatened Felicity, how Oliver had killed again for her, and how it was one thing that he couldn’t bring himself to regret. Whatever Thea asked, he answered, giving her the truth and trust that she so desired. She didn’t ask about the island, or his life before that fateful day in October when he’d fallen back into her life. _

_ What she hadn’t expected was for him to tell her his fears. How scared he had been when Slade had taken her, and how that had only amplified when Oliver found her and their mother with a sword to their throats. How he’d found out that Felicity had been taken the same day as the funeral because she’d been alone looking for him. And how he was terrified that Slade had found the person he’d promised to kill before all of this could end.  _

_ Thea sat and listened to everything he wasn’t saying, and when he ran out of words, she took over. She told him how proud she was of him and his decisions. That she could never be disappointed in him or the compromises he made to come home every night. Thea apologized, and told her brother she would do whatever was needed, help in anyway that she could, to find his missing friend. She told him she loved him, and when he asked her to please stay and not go with Malcolm, she agreed without hesitation.  _

_ Oliver needed her here so he knew she was safe from his enemies while he searched for the woman he loved. As much as he didn’t know it or didn’t believe it, Thea was convinced that he loved Felicity, and because of that, she loved Felicity.  _

Which was why she was sitting with her brother in the Starling General waiting room in the middle of the night to hear if a woman that she’d never met was going to be okay. Thirty minutes had passed since they’d been told that somebody would be out to see them when they had information to share. The only person they’d seen had been Captain Lance and he had nothing that they didn’t already know. 

One hand held Oliver’s tightly, she didn’t even know if he realized how strongly he was gripping her, the other was scrolling mindlessly through her phone. A coffee cup thrust under her nose blocked her screen and had her looking up to see which angel had brought her the caffeine. In her peripheral, she could see another being held out for Oliver and he dropped her hand to grab it. 

“Babe.” Roy greeted her smile with one of his own. 

“What are you doing here? I told you to go home.”

Thea turned to look at her brother with pursed lips, following his gaze back to Roy and apparently the rest of the team that had taken their seats around them. “What my brother means is thank you.”

Oliver looked at her with a roll of his eyes because that wasn’t what he’d meant at all. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, coffee cup dangling from his fingertips. John had taken the seat across from him, Sara next to him, and Roy opting to sit on the other side of Thea. He was grateful it was late so they could all sit close to avoid anybody else listening to their conversation. 

“Laurel wanted to come,” Sara said, breaking the silence. “She’s still the ADA though and has work in the morning.”

He hadn’t expected her to be there. She didn’t know Felicity, not in the way everyone else did, and she’d been going above and beyond for them as it was. He’d feel better when Felicity was back at her computers and Laurel was safely away from all of this. He hadn’t planned on one partner, let alone a whole brigade joining him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver could see Roy’s leg jostling, and wondered what that was about. He was about to say something when Thea must have noticed it too because she tucked her phone back into her clutch and placed her palm on his knee to settle him. 

Oliver could hear the murmur of her question, but it was Roy’s answer that came back much clearer. “Because I’m pissed the asshole got away!” 

Raising his eyes to the two across from him, Oliver clearly saw their reactions and it seemed the statement resonated with everyone. “He’s finished, Roy,” Oliver said with a nod to Diggle. “We will find him and we will make him pay.”

“Oliver Queen?” The voice that interrupted their tête-à-tête belonged to a middle aged doctor that resembled his mother in age and height with brown hair. 

Oliver stood quickly and Thea stole the opportunity to nestle against Roy’s side. Holding out his empty cup to her, she took it and stacked her own inside while he stepped away.

“I’m Oliver Queen, Doctor..?”

“Simmons. I’m the attending physician tonight. When Ms Smoak came in she was unconscious and unresponsive. She is extremely malnourished and dehydrated. Given the circumstances she was found in, I’m surprised she’s not worse off. We’re giving her IV fluids and monitoring her for any adverse reactions. Now,” Dr Simmons hesitated before looking down at the chart in her hand and back up at him. “We did find evidence of intravenous drug use, so we ordered a full blood panel. Until we get the results back, it’s safe to assume that what has been given to her has built up, and until it’s out of her system will still affect her.”

“But she’s okay, right? She’ll be okay?”

The doctor gave him a reassuring smile, “Until we know what was given to her, we play it by ear. She’s stable and in a room getting some much needed rest. It’s the best we can hope for right now.”

\- - - -

Any hope that Oliver had for the situation being not that bad was quickly dashed when Felicity woke hours later. He had known there was the possibility that when she woke, she’d react the same way she had when they found her. What actually happened had been much worse because she wasn’t scared like she had been, she had given up. Whatever had happened to her had broken her in a way Oliver hadn’t seen before. 

On the island, in Russia, in Hong Kong, he’d seen different kinds of torture with the goal to break one’s spirit before crushing their soul. What he’d seen in Felicity when she’d looked at him was something else entirely. 

To hear her speak had taken his breath away. What she was saying made absolutely no sense. Laurel and him weren’t married, there was no baby, and she had never once scared him. She couldn’t. It was almost as nonsensical as the idea that he could ever just let her go.

He’d tried to speak to her but when it made her feel worse, he made the choice to give her what she needed rather than what he wanted. She was safe in the hospital. He could leave her for a few hours while he figured out what happened to her in that building. 

Stopping outside the door, he filled John in on what had transpired, requesting that he stay on guard until Oliver was able to get back. While everyone else had gone home hours ago, and Oliver had taken up vigil at Felicity’s bedside, John had posted himself outside the door. He’d been told the state they’d found her in, he’d talked with Captain Lance about threat assessment, and John had unilaterally decided that there would be a guard on her door at all times. Oliver agreed that until they knew more, either himself or John would be with her. 

For now he couldn’t be, so he’d go to the foundry and run through the footage John had retrieved from the security system in the building. He knew there had to be something on it that would give him answers.

\- - - -

The first thing he noticed was that it wasn’t security footage. John had done a remarkable job dismantling the computer to grab the hard-drive rather than trying to load everything onto the external that Oliver had provided. Everything listed had a date and as he scrolled to the bottom, they started three days after his mother’s funeral. Where the cameras had been tuned for night vision tonight, most of the thumbnails were bright and colorful. 

Clicking on a more recent date, Oliver gasped when Felicity appeared centered on the screen. She was wearing the same white outfit they’d found her in with the cuffs wrapped around her wrists. There was a shadow to the left of their camera that Oliver assumed was the person speaking. Like it was shot over the person’s shoulder. 

“Ready, Felicity? Just like always, there is no camera and your wrists are not bound, you see no cuffs.” Though the voice is distorted, Oliver can tell the shift in tone when he speaks again. Like he was changing roles. “Welcome back, Felicity. Now, you ended our last session early, I figured you needed some time before we met again. How are you feeling now?” The voice was male, Oliver could tell that much, but everything else he wouldn’t recognize if he spoke directly with the person. 

Oliver sat with his hands over his mouth, leg bouncing as he paused to look at her. The date he’d chosen was only a few days ago, so she didn’t look much different from today. It didn’t mean that he would ever get over seeing her that way. 

Closing that video, he scrolled down a month and picked another. This time it wasn’t over her shoulder but rather in the room that they’d found her. Opening the file, he could hear her talking to herself, and because it was such a Felicity thing, he chuckled. 

“Wow. That’s a sound I never thought I’d hear again.”

Oliver paused the video with a jab to the space bar and spun in his seat. “Thea. Shouldn’t you be home? Sleeping?”

“I got a couple hours and once the sun is up I can’t be stopped.” She’d changed clothes since he saw her last and did look more rested on second glance. “What’s this?” She indicated the screen as she pulled a chair up next to him. 

“This is what we found at the school.. There were cameras set up. It’s how we found her there. John was able to bring the hard drive back with all of the videos.”

“And you’re watching them?”

Oliver nodded. She’d gone home before Felicity had woken up, so Thea didn’t know about the things she’d said to him. “She thinks I’m married to Laurel with a baby on the way,” he said in a huff. “She woke up and asked me point blank to leave the room. The things she was saying just do not make sense.”

Thea nodded with realization. “And you think you’ll find out what happened to her in these videos.”

“I think I need to try. I can’t help her if I don’t know what happened or what we’re up against.”

Oliver moved to restart the video and Felicity’s mumbling played over the speakers. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. This was shortly after she was taken. Before everything they’d subjected her to could show on her skin. 

“Is that where you found her?” Thea asked quietly next to him, her eyes open in surprise when he looked at her. 

“Yeah, same room.” He could see her trying to process the confined space and poor conditions on display. They’d all had the same reaction last night upon seeing it. 

“Nine months, he says.. impossible.. Stupid doctor had no idea what he’s talking about. What are things that happened nine months ago, Felicity? The undertaking, Oliver being an idiot...after that you jumped out of a plane.. Russia..stupid Isabel..”

Oliver fast forwarded the same clip, stopping every once in a while to see if anything changed. She never moved from the bed. Sometimes sitting up against the wall, her hands wringing together nervously. Mostly she slept. 

He went back to the list of videos and opened another file. This one was back to her being the center of the screen with the camera over the man’s shoulder. It started just as the other had with a reminder about the camera and her hands. 

“You had a visit from Mr. Queen. Would you like to talk about it?” He asked. 

Thea sat up next to Oliver and leaned forward in her seat. On the screen, Felicity hesitates, her gaze looking off to the side like she’s lost in thought. The man with her must have noticed because after a bit he prompts her again.

“No,” she answers, and after some back forth, Oliver hears an answer that strengthens him. “He lied. It was all a lie.”

“She knew,” he breathed, letting out a breath of air at the thought. “In this instance, she knew I could never…”

“Ollie…” Thea reached out and covered his hand with hers. “If it wasn’t you then who did she see? Who visited her?”

She grabbed the mouse and closed the video to open the file from the day before. Felicity is in that room again. Oliver moved the time forward a few minutes until the sky darkens outside her lone window. Breaking the silence, a loud voice comes over a speaker just outside the room. 

“Oliver is here, Felicity. He’s wearing a suit for the office and you see a ring on his left hand. Remember your greatest fear, Felicity. Remember that you can’t trust him.”

The Felicity on the screen never moves. She doesn’t look like she’s heard him at all. When the door opens, though, her face changes from placid to pure surprise and glee. A man walks in but the angle of the camera obscures his features. All Oliver knows is that it isn’t him. He watched as she tossed the pillow behind her and struggled to move forward on the bed, her feet dangling over the edge. They move like she’s walking but she’s not at all. 

Oliver watched the exchange before him and felt sick to his stomach. This person knew too much about them, about their relationship, and he was using it against her. Her pain is evident in her words and written all over her face. This is why she had looked at him the way she had.

There’s a pleading in her voice that he’d never heard before, “....You, me, Diggle, Roy. I  _ know _ the Undertaking and losing Tommy and your mom has felt impossibly hard. I know. But we are better together. I don’t know how many times I have to say it until you believe it but I’ll keep saying it until you do.” 

When she began to cry, Thea reached over and grasped his hand. He didn’t realize it was because he’d started crying himself. They watch the door open and hear the parting jab about being scared of her. Felicity moves from the bed, stumbling on shaky legs until she falls to the floor and crawls across the floor to the door. 

Her cries fill the room and Oliver shuts the video down. He’d heard this part before in the school. He didn’t need to hear it again. “That’s enough. I’ve heard enough.”

He doubled over in the chair, bringing both hands around Thea’s to hold tight. His voice his hard and unforgiving. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Ollie…” Thea knew that he had changed since his early days of being the Hood. She also knew what he was capable of doing. 

“No.” He objected firmly, sitting upright again. “This is… You saw what he did to her. These aren’t surveillance videos. He experimented on her. He messed with her head, Thea. I can’t…” He felt his body vibrating with anger. Letting loose her hand, he pushed the chair back and stood up. “I need to get back to the hospital. I’ve already been gone too long and I can’t be here.”

\- - - -

Oliver left Thea in the basement of Verdant and headed home to shower and change his clothes. He’d ran on next to no sleep before but it was nearing midday, over 30 hours, and at least a shower would wake him up. He also didn’t want to see her when he was this riled up. 

When he agreed to take up the mantle again, he’d done it with the full knowledge that the Arrow wouldn’t kill. He’d be better than that going forward. When he’d taken out the count, it had been a necessity. Felicity was in imminent danger and the man would have killed her if Oliver hadn’t acted. After watching the mind fuck that Felicity had been subjected to all of his vows to Tommy, for Tommy, had flown out the window. Inside him stirred a rage that he hadn’t felt in some time. Pure, blind hatred for a nameless, faceless man. 

When he made it back to the hospital, he stopped outside her door to speak with Digg. The older man was stoic but when he saw Oliver, he must have noticed something in the man’s expression that pulled his attention. 

“You found something.”

“I did,” he answers, changing the subject before they can get into it. “How is she?” 

“She slept for a long time after you left. The doctors checked on her once. She woke up again a bit ago. There was yelling involved but she’s been quiet since. After how she reacted to you earlier, I didn’t want to set her back by barging in.”

Oliver nods and looks through the window but he can’t see her in the bed. Not sleeping then. “I’m not going anywhere. You should get home and update Lyla.”

“And what am I updating her on?”

Oliver scrubs a hand over his face and shorn hair, shaking his head because he can hardly believe it himself. Not to mention all of the anger boiling within him. “They experimented on her. Told her what to see and what to believe. Made her think that she was seeing me telling her all of these lies. That she’s not my family. That I don’t trust her. They told her not to trust me.”

He can feel the anger rising again in his chest as the video replays in his head as he recounts what he saw. “The recording at the school was after she received a visit from ‘Oliver Queen’ and she was made to believe that she belonged in that place. I can’t even imagine how scared she was… is.”

John claps a hand to his shoulder and squeezes. “She’s out of their hands and back where she belongs. Just remember that.”

Oliver nods and gives John a firm pat on his back as he steps past him to open the door. Turning the handle, he hesitates and takes a deep breath. Felicity deserves to have him fully present and not obsessing over what was done to her. 

Pushing open the door, he sees her immediately against the wall beneath the window. That same look in her eyes from earlier. She’s staring but not at him, through him, and there are tears trailing down her cheeks. He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s crying. 

Oliver doesn’t say anything as he clears the distance between them, her eyes never wavering from the spot they’re frozen on. Lowering himself to the floor, he sits facing her, giving her control over what happens next. If she wants him to leave, he’ll set camp outside her door. 

When she closes her eyes and more tears follow, he can’t bring himself to look away. For a moment there, he’d thought he’d never see her again. Maybe they had a long way to go in recovery but at least he had the opportunity to help her do that.

“I can see you,” she says, and she sounds scared and sad but also like she’s working out a puzzle he isn’t privy to. 

Her fingers wrap around his arm and he lets out a shuddering breath at the contact. She squeezes, moving down until her fingers are tracing his own, looking for something. “I can feel you.” 

When her index and thumb grasp his fourth finger and she lets out a sob, he knows she was looking for his supposed wedding ring. “Please tell me you’re real,” she begs and he knows that all she has to do is ask and he’d do it. He’d do anything for her. 

Taking her hand in his, Oliver brings them to his lips and he kisses her knuckles before reaching to cup her cheek, brushing away her tears. He needs to touch her. To feel that she’s here with him and not some figment of his imagination. He can’t help but wonder if she needs the same. “I’m real, Felicity. You’re safe.” His lips graze the warm skin of her knuckles again, and he can feel his already broken heart mending in the smallest way. 

Another quiet sob escapes from her throat and he turns her head towards him though her eyes are still shut. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” she stammers. “You’ll be gone and I - I am  _ not _ strong enough.”

His thumb strokes her cheek slowly, reassuringly, as he speaks. “Felicity, you are the strongest woman - person - I know. You can do anything.”

Her hand moves over his and she takes a deep breath before opening her eyes to look at him. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying, but when she sees him looking back at her, the blue in her irises seems to sparkle. 

“It’s you,” she whispers, and she turns her body towards him, her hands moving to cradle his face so she can examine him closer. “Your hair is shorter.”

He huffs a laugh and nods. Isabel had started to talk about his lax appearance when he’d failed to meet her office standards after a month of looking for Felicity. “We work for a Fortune 500, Oliver, not  _ Sons of Anarchy _ .”

Felicity returns his grin and heals him a little more, but then her face is falling and her eyes are welling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Oliver.”

“For what?”

She drops her hands and he sees the way she rubs at the bandages around her wrists. The cuffs having been on for so long had managed to rub them raw. “I yelled at you. I kicked you out. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.. I thought you were somebody else. Oh my god. I wouldn’t even let you near me. I’m so sorry.”

Oliver moved quickly, pulling her into his lap and shushing her softly. “I know who you thought I was,” he tells her without judgement or malice. “Don’t apologize for that. It’s not necessary. You were doing what you needed to for yourself. I will never fault you for protecting yourself, Felicity. Never.”

She’s sitting sideways on his lap, her head on his shoulder, his arms wound around her waist. Her hand drops to his chest and lands over his heart where it’s thumping steadily at her touch. “How long?”

“Over a month.”

“Oliver?” She asks hesitantly after sitting quietly for some time. 

“Hm?”

“Who did you think I thought you were?” Her nose crinkles at the convolutedness of the sentence but he knows what she means.

“Well, me… just not the me you know.” Oliver sighs heavily and for the first time he’s nervous about telling her what he did while he was gone. Concerned that she’ll see it as a violation of their trust. “When we found you, Felicity, I thought we had lost you. We went hard after Slade.. when that didn’t work, we tore apart the Glades. Finding you in that school was an accident. We were there for something else. We had no idea why they took you, or who even took you, but they recorded everything.”

Her hand finds his and squeezes it in reassurance. “It’s okay, Oliver. You found me. Do you know how much I believed that you would?”

He nods and the warmth of her hand urges him on. “When you asked me to leave before and the things you were saying just didn’t compute with reality, I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t watch them all but enough. I saw when that man made you believe that I was there to see you. I’m sorry if watching them upsets you. I can see now how it might feel like an invasion of privacy, but at the time, Felicity, at the time I didn’t see any other choice. I couldn’t help you if I didn’t know what they’d done to you.”

Felicity sits up in his lap and turns his face to hers. “It’s not, it wasn’t, an invasion of privacy. He’s not a real doctor. They weren’t real sessions. I know that now.”

It’s Oliver’s turn to grow quiet as the lump in his throat clogs any production of words. Instead, he holds her tighter and rests his forehead against hers. They stay that way until Felicity pulls back and yawns. 

“C’mon,” he nudges her, helping her stand. When he’s on his feet again, he tugs her to her bed and urges her to lay down. “You need your rest.”

“So do you,” she counters, sliding into the bed. “You can’t tell me that you got nearly enough sleep in the last month.”

She is not wrong and since he can’t tell her that, he opts to not say anything. 

“That’s what I thought.” Felicity tugs the covers back and pats the open area next to her. “Get in here. You’re not sleeping in that chair.”

Oliver thinks about declining. She needs to sleep and having him in that small bed with her won’t allow for that. Except he doesn’t want to be away from her. Being able to touch her and holding her like he just had is the only thing that had been able to calm him. So, Oliver does what she wants rather than what he should, and toes off his shoes to join her under the covers. They move towards each other at the same time, his arms encircling her, her head resting on his chest, and they fall asleep together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday everyone!
> 
> You all continue to blow my mind. Thank you for all of the interaction on each chapter. I am just so grateful. 
> 
> As always - no beta/ no rights to Arrow or the characters.

\- - - -

  
For five long weeks, Felicity had woken up groggy and unclear of almost everything in her life. Sometimes she’d be in one room and wake up in another. Sometimes she’d fall asleep and wake up minutes later; other times it felt like days. It was a feeling that she had hoped to never become acclimated to. 

This time is completely different and the young woman can’t help the elation that sweeps over her at the realization that when she opens her eyes, she’ll be in the same hospital room in Starling General that she remembers falling asleep in with Oliver Queen in her bed.

Oh. Oliver Queen in her _bed_ . In _her_ bed. 

Felicity freezes, Oliver’s heart rhythmically pulsing beneath her ear, his chest warm against her cheek. Once when they’d been chasing after some drug dealers on the docks, Oliver had taken a bullet that had been meant for the rival gang encroaching on the territory. It wasn’t an altogether bad wound, and Diggle had gotten him back to the foundry just fine, but Felicity had fretted over him as he lay on the med table. She’d pulled up a chair and held his wrist, counting the beats until she lost track of the number, starting again at one. It was how she’d fallen asleep and how Oliver had found her when he’d woken up. That was so less intimate than this.

“Felicity,” Oliver grumbles, covering her hand that rests on his chest, stopping her finger from tapping in time with his heart. “Go back to sleep.”

Felicity turns her face into him and grins at being caught. She was awake first! She should have noticed when he woke up. He clearly noticed her. 

She’s settling back against him, their hands loosely tangled on his chest, and his arm pulling her in tightly to his side when her stomach growls. That in turn makes her giggle and she can feel the bounce of Oliver’s chest as he follows suit. “No can do, buddy. I’m hungry.”

She moves to sit up and Oliver resists, hugging her tightly as he groans in complaint. “Tell your stomach it’s not time to eat yet.” 

Felicity lifts her head, resting her chin on Oliver’s chest as she watches him. He hasn’t opened his eyes and looks so peaceful that she almost feels bad for waking him. Her hand leaves his and gently traces a finger along his hairline. “You don’t understand, Oliver,” she begins gleefully. “The last time I remember eating was.. your mother’s..” Felicity trails off because she hadn’t meant to bring that bad memory to the surface. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m just happy that I’m starving.”

Oliver chuckles, seemingly unphased, and finally relents his hold on her. Felicity moves reluctantly, reaching to the bedside tray for her glasses before sitting up. Looking towards the window, she can see the city outside bathed in the light of the late afternoon. Reflections of the clouds and sky evident in the skyscrapers just outside. 

She’d spent so much time staring at windows that maybe didn’t even exist. Hoping for an exit that was only a fabrication. It was disconcerting that she could see all of the differences between _there_ and _here_ when she hadn’t been able to notice them before. Here holds so much detail and color and liveliness that she hadn’t experienced in so long. Like Dorothy waking up to Technicolor. 

A warm hand on her back lets her know that Oliver is still there. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” she answers, looking back at him with a soft smile. “Yeah. I’m perfect.” And she means it. In this moment, she is perfect because she is here with her best friend and she is safe. For the first time, Felicity feels truly safe from the people that had taken her. Oliver had caught them and he would do everything in his power to protect her. 

He’s raised the back of the bed for her to sit up, so Felicity eases herself up the frame, wincing at the sharp pain in her wrists. When she’s settled again, she raises her hands in front of her, inspecting the damage. Her nails are chipped, polish nearly gone. Both hands rotate so they’re palm up, fingers resting loosely as she stares, and Felicity can tell she’s thinner. Her wrists are smaller. It’s not a revelation. She didn’t remember eating, so the leap to not actually having ate is more of a tip-toe, really.

The gauze encasing her wounds is minimal, but the fact that they’re this bad and she didn’t know unsettles her. What else was done to her that she doesn’t know or remember?

What is surprising, though, is how unclean she looks. Her nails look like she’s been gardening. Her skin is speckled with dirt and grime, and she can only guess what the rest of her looks like. Suddenly, she just wants a shower to cleanse herself from everything that she’s experienced, and that chips away at the sunny mood she’d woken to.

“Felicity,” Oliver says softly, his phone chirping before he can say anything more. “Sorry.”

She drops her hands to the blankets over her lap with a small shrug. He has nothing to apologize for, she’s not his only responsibility. Or his responsibility at all, really. “It’s okay, Oliver. No rest for the weary.”

He nods and is about to ask another question when the door to her room opens. She stiffens beside him, her hands immediately clutching the blankets. He must notice because she feels his much larger and warmer hand cover hers. 

The person that enters is a woman wearing a white coat and Felicity deduces that she must be a doctor. She can’t help but think of another doctor that wore a similar coat. His hair gelled and that damn ledger.

_Chip._

“I didn’t realize that I had two patients in here,” she greets with a warm smile, but Felicity can’t seem to relax until Oliver returns the greeting with one of his own. 

“Felicity,” he says with a comforting squeeze of her hands. “This is Dr Simmons. She took care of when you came in.”

“Oh,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “T-thank you.”

Dr Simmons takes a few steps into the room, lifting the chart that’s at the end of Felicity’s bed. “How are you feeling, Felicity?”

“Hungry, actually,” she answers, turning her hand quickly to grasp onto Oliver’s when he begins to draw it back. “Tired and achy.” After a beat, she lowers her eyes to their clasped hands. “I just want to go home.”

After Felicity finishes, Dr Simmons takes off her stethoscope and has her lean forward to take a few deep breaths. A blood pressure cuff follows before the doctor takes a step back. 

Felicity watches her making notes before she closes the chart and slips it back into the spot at the end of the bed. “All expected, I assure you. As I told Mr Queen when you were brought in, you were severely malnourished and dehydrated. We took blood samples and sent them to the lab. Now that you’re awake maybe you can help us out a bit so we know what happened over the last few weeks.

The one thing that Felicity can’t do is that because she doesn’t know everything that was done to her. “I don’t remember eating or drinking but I never wanted to. I slept a lot except I was tired all the time. They didn’t let me see very much. There was a rec room, an office, and my room.” Her hand moves to tug at the cuff of her shirt but Oliver is still holding tight as she talks. “I know there was a wheelchair and two orderlies. I was…” Felicity trails off and her eyes slide past Dr Simmons to the window behind her. “I fought once and they stuck me with something, I think. I was talking with Roy in the rec room and there was a door that burst open. Two men came in and grabbed me..”

Then Felicity remembers that there was no Roy and maybe there was no rec room. Maybe there were no orderlies. The amount of unknowns crash into her and she doesn’t try to stop the tears that well in her eyes. _Crack._ “Anyway, I hope that helps.”

Dr Simmons places a reassuring hand on her shoulder and gives her a soft smile. “It does help to corroborate some of what we already know. You were fed but rarely. Same with water. The only reason we removed your IV is because you kept removing it yourself. So, I’m going to need you to do a few things for me. You need to eat high nutrient foods and drink plenty of fluids. Otherwise, we’re hooking you back up.”

Felicity nods. “Model patient. Got it.”

“Good. Now as for what your lab results show. We were able to break down the components of what you were injected with but we don’t have anything in the database to match it completely. We have parts of it which suggests it’s a combination of a few different experimental drugs. We do know that you have a lot in your system. I would venture so far as to say an unhealthy amount. It’s stored in your adipose tissue. Any breakdown of that tissue, stress for example, will cause it to be released into your bloodstream. What affect this has on you and your system is unclear at this point in time. It could do nothing or it could cause a relapse of sorts. I don’t like to speculate but I want you to know the possibilities.”

“For how long?”

Felicity looks back over her shoulder at Oliver. It is the first time that he’s spoken since his introduction. His jaw is tight and she can practically see the anger rolling off him. 

“There’s five weeks worth of build up and a lot more that we don’t know than we do, Mr Queen. As I said, I don’t like to speculate and that’s all we’d be doing in this case.”

“When can I go home?” 

“You’ve only been here for a few hours,” she says kindly. “Tired of us already? We’d like to keep you here just out of abundance of caution until tomorrow. After that we’ll look into some physical therapy to get your muscle strength back. You said there was a wheelchair? It would make sense given the amount of muscle atrophy you’re experiencing. You’ll need somebody to assist with your day to day until you can build your strength back up.”

Felicity is about to answer when Oliver moves his other hand to her shoulder. “She’ll stay with us.”

Dr Simmons nods and offers another warm smile. “It looks like you’re in good hands. You’re also just in time for dinner to be served. It’s something light. Given the circumstances, I want you to be able to keep it down so go slow.”

The doctor left shortly after and then it was just the two of them again. They sit quietly with each other as Felicity tries to comprehend everything she’s been told. She remembers walking to Roy. She remembers walking back to her room. She remembers a lot of things that apparently never happened. That bubble of warmth they’d found so close to popping.

“Talk to me,” Oliver says quietly, and she knows he just wants to help but she doesn’t know where to even begin.

“I just want to take a shower and get clean.”

Oliver is already moving to slip his shoes back on and come around to her side of the bed. “Maybe we should get a nurse..?”

She shakes her head adamantly and moves the covers off of her. “No.. Please. You can get me there and I’ll do the rest, okay?”

She doesn’t want to tell him that she’s too scared to have somebody she doesn’t know touching her. She’s experienced enough of that. 

“Okay,” he gives in, “but they need to wrap your wrists again if you get them wet, so I’ll get somebody for that. Thea is on her way with new clothes for you.”

Felicity reaches for his offered hand and his other arm loops around her waist to hold most of her weight. “Thea knows about me?”

Felicity can feel how weak her body actually is and doesn’t fight when Oliver practically carries her across the room. Otherwise, she’d be a crumpled lump on the floor. 

Once in the bathroom, he sets her on the toilet and checks the shower, reaching in to start the water warming. “There’s a stool so I think you should be okay. I’ll be right out here in case you need me.”

She can tell he doesn’t want to leave her as he hesitates at the door, teetering between that feeling and being a gentleman. Part of her doesn’t want him to leave. Even if it wasn’t him that had turned his back on her before, it still hurt just the same. It’s not something that she wants to see again. 

“I’ll be okay,” she says, reassuring herself and him. Oliver sighs and nods and Felicity can see that he’s not as fine as he says he is. “Promise.”

Felicity waits until the door closes before she strips herself of the gown the hospital provided. She discards it in the bin and moves to tug at the gauze around her wrists. Her fingers tremble as she unwraps first one then the other. Her skin is raw and red and angry at the rough treatment. 

On unsteady legs, she grasps the grab bar and pulls herself to stand. Her knees shake as she traverses the three feet to the shower. When she’s able to sit down, she’s winded and tired and feeling worse than she has in a very long time. But she’s _feeling_ something and that’s an improvement over the way she floated through the days. 

Felicity doesn’t know how long she sits there the water flowing over her body, cleansing her of the evidence of her ordeal. Thea knowing about her is new and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel about that. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel about any of it. 

After the struggle of washing her hair, Felicity scrubs her skin with a wash cloth as she lets her mind wander. She’s been gone too long for Lyla to still be pregnant and Felicity feels an overwhelming anger sweep over her that she missed her best friend becoming a dad. Mad that they kept her from meeting this new addition to her already small family.

When she comes back to herself, Felicity looks down to see that the raw and red and angry skin of her wrists is now bleeding in places. The water washing it away in red rivulets across her pale skin. Tears trail down her cheeks, falling from her chin like drops of rain. She takes a deep breath that she tries to release slowly but it comes out in a heavy sob.

_Pop._

She turns off the water and fumbles for the towel, wrapping it around herself as best she can. Felicity sits there until she starts to shiver from the cool air on her wet skin. 

“Oliver?” She calls out, her voice sticking over the letters. 

He’s there opening the door before she even needs to question if he heard her. “I’m right here.”

He’s carrying a duffel bag that he sets on the floor as he kneels on the hard tiles. His hands move to check her, brushing the wet hair from her face before moving down her body. He notices her wrists and she can hear him telling her it’s okay, they’ll get a nurse to wrap them again. 

“Thea brought some clothes from the house. She’s just out there,” he indicates with a nod to the room just outside. “Do you want me to get her?”

She doesn’t know Thea, but she’s Oliver’s sister and that’s enough for her. Nodding, she pulls the towel tighter around herself. “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll get her. When you’re ready there’s a smoothie out here for you.” He stands, leaving a kiss on her forehead before exiting the room again.

The next person that comes through the door is a smaller and more brunette Queen. Felicity has seen Thea in passing. Once at the courthouse during her mother’s trial, a few times at Verdant, and even at the manor many, many months ago. It’s enough for Felicity to not feel like there’s a stranger with her.

Felicity doesn’t expect the complete whirlwind that is Thea Queen, though. As soon as the door is shut, Thea is unzipping the duffel to pull out some clothes. “I didn’t know what to pack, so I just tossed a little bit of everything in when Ollie texted.”

Felicity waits and Thea pulls out a long sleeved t-shirt with Harvard emblazoned across the front. “This is Ollie’s so it’ll be a bit big but it’ll work.”

Thea helps her first with the black yoga pants she’s brought and then the grey Harvard shirt. Thea carefully rolls the sleeves to avoid Felicity’s wrists, and when she’s done, the towel is stripped from Felicity’s body. They might not be her clothes but she feels clean and new again. 

Thea helps her move from the shower to the toilet where she sits still while the younger woman untangles her hair. “Felicity?”

“Hmm?”

Thea gently maneuvers the brush through Felicity’s hair, grasping bits and pieces to conquer any tangles before working her way up. Maybe it was time to just cut it all off. “I know we don’t know each other but I’m really glad that you’re home.”

Felicity starts to answer but she can’t find the words, so she opts to reach back over her shoulder and grasp the hand that was holding her hair. They stay in that moment together until Felicity lets her go back to what she was doing. Felicity wonders what exactly transpired while she was gone. How much did Oliver reveal to his little sister about her and what they do together?

The silence between them is anything but awkward. Thea’s smoothing her hair, concentrating on the task at hand, and Felicity is just sitting half-asleep it feels so nice to be taken care of. Before she knows it, her hair is braided down her back and Thea is retrieving her brother from the other room. If she nodded off, Thea doesn’t say anything to her. 

When Oliver walks in, her eyes are closed and she’s swaying in her seat, but she can sense him. “Up we go,” he says, and just like before, his arm moves around her waist and they walk back together to the hospital bed.

Felicity’s internal clock is all kinds of fubared. If it weren’t for the sun lowering in the sky, she wouldn’t know that she was in the shower so long. Sitting up in the bed, Oliver in the chair on the right, Felicity lets her head fall back. 

“Here,” Oliver says, breaking through the quiet of the room. Felicity opens her eyes that she hadn’t notice she’d closed and sees him smiling sadly at her, holding out a green drink. “You need to eat. Doctor’s orders.”

Felicity reaches for it and takes a long drink. It’s not intolerable, a burger would taste better, but after two more sips she’s full. Placing it back on the tray, she leans back against the raised bed. “Tastes like rabbit food. You’d love it,” she quips with a sleepy grin. 

“Where’s Thea?”

“She went to get the nurse for your wrists. Let me see.”

Felicity complies and holds them out for him to inspect. “What did you tell her?”

He sighs as he takes her hands and they feel so warm and safe in his. “Everything.”

She’s surprised at that and it must show because when he looks at her his smile grows into a full grin. “How did that go?” They’re still holding hands and she doesn’t want to pull away but they’re interrupted by the opening door and incoming people. 

Thea plops onto the couch, pulling her feet underneath her, and the a young red headed nurse greets Felicity. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from Oliver’s and holds them up to the professional. 

“I wish you would have gotten one of us before you showered. We could have made sure this didn’t happen.” There’s a scolding hidden in the kind tone but Felicity doesn’t miss it. She’s so rarely been scolded before. 

She shrugs and slides her eyes over to Oliver. “Didn’t seem necessary. Won’t happen again.”

Once she’s put back together with ointment and bandages, Oliver takes her hand again. “Are you up for visitors? There are some people that would really like to see you and I’ve been keeping them away.”

With all the hustle and bustle of people coming in and out of the room, plus the offending dinner, she wasn’t as tired as she’d been after her shower. And she wants to see everyone, so she nods vigorously at his question. “Absolutely.”

Thea’s grinning excitedly at the two of them and Felicity can’t figure out for the life of her why. “Thank god,” she breathes, relieved. “I already texted them to come down.”

“Thea..” Oliver sighs and shakes his head. 

“What?”

“Just wait next time.”

“Good God, Ollie, I hope there isn’t a next time.”

Felicity watches them volley back and forth and it’s the best interaction that she could witness. Thea knows _everything_ and in her opinion it was about damn time. This openness between them is refreshing. 

When the door opens, Felicity clings to Oliver’s hand, loosing her grip when the first person walks in. 

“John,” she sighs, wistfully, her eyes drawn to the bundle in his arms. “Who’s this?”

He clears the distance between the door and the side of her bed in a handful of his long strides. “This is my daughter Andrea.” He’s grinning down at the tiny wrapped figure as he resituates her to give Felicity a chance to see her. 

“After your brother?”

He nods, “And you. I’d like you to officially meet Andrea Felicity Diggle.”

“What?” Felicity stares up at him in confusion and wonder. “Are you sure?”

“It’s already on her birth certificate.”

“Can I — can I hold her?”

John nods and helps Felicity get her and the newborn comfortable. She has her knees tented and little Andrea cozily sleeping against them trapped between her hands. When she tears her eyes away to look up at John, she sees nothing but love for his daughter on his face. “I’m so sorry.” She’s apologizing a lot lately. “For missing everything.”

“I should be apologizing to you,” he returns. “For leaving you alone. Letting you get taken.”

Oliver huffs next to her and mumbles something that she can’t make out. What’s that about? Turning her gaze from him back to John, she shakes her head before her attention focuses on the baby in her arms. “Nonsense. You didn’t let them do anything.”

“Still.”

“Not your fault. It was my choice, my fault.”

Little Andi Diggle has mesmerized Felicity entirely. From her long lashes and bow mouth to her perfect baby smell, Felicity is utterly in love. She knew she would be but having her here is so much better than anything she could have imagined. The rest of the room and the chipped mood and popped bubble just melt away into the background as she burrows into the new baby glow that Andi has brought with her just by existing. 

She doesn’t even notice that Oliver’s glare has softened, and just like Felicity is enthralled with the baby, Oliver is enthralled with Felicity.

\- - - -

Her visitors don’t stay long. John needs to get Andi back to Lyla and Thea needs to get to Verdan where Roy is doing inventory. They both leave giving her long hugs, Thea adding a kiss to her cheek before bounding out of the room. 

“It’s hard to believe she’s a business woman that owns a nightclub,” Felicity tells Oliver with a laugh. 

He refuses to leave her room despite her insistence that she’ll be fine for him to go home and sleep. “I can sleep here, Felicity.”

She scoots over and he’s taking his place beside her, lowering the bed so the incline is less severe. They find comfort in each other. His arms holding her tight, her body nestled against his. It’s unexpected but not awkward. She knows it’ll go back to normal when the newness of her reappearance wears off, so she vows to soak it all in now.

Felicity wakes in the middle of the night. The moon in the sky tells her as much and it’s still a weird thing to see after only sunlight for so long. Oliver’s arm is looped over her waist, his chest against her back. She can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing and it should be help to ground her but it doesn’t. 

She hears again the reason she woke up. Her bedside phone is ringing. Reaching her hand out, she answers without a second thought, and after a whispered greeting so as not to wake Oliver, there’s nothing but dead air on the other end. 

Hanging up the phone, she yawns and her eyes open slowly, fighting against her desire to curl into the embrace of the man sharing her bed. The room is blurry, her glasses on the tray table on Oliver’s side of the bed, but she doesn’t need them for the scene before her. 

Her doctor in his white coat holding a ledger that she knows deep down doesn’t exist. He’s looking at her but saying nothing. Scrunching her eyes closed, she buries her head beneath the blanket. “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“Wouldn’t you like to believe that? Maybe he’s not real.” 

She comes out from behind the comfort of the covers to look behind her and see that Oliver is gone. The hospital room with it’s glass windows and lighted hallways is gone; traded in for a bare room and barred windows and bright, bright sun. 

“Why is it that just when you’re getting better they suck you back in?” He asks, not even trying to hide the disdain in his voice. “You finally got to a good place and now those hallucinations have come scurrying back.”

“They’re not _back_ ,” she retorts, eyeing him closely but he’s just as real as John had been earlier. There’s nothing to indicate that he’s a mirage or a figment of her imagination. “You’re not real.”

He ignores that. “Maybe you never left. Maybe all of this,” he waves his hands around like she would normally do. “Is something you made up.”

Felicity doesn’t say anything as she tries to calculate the merits of talking with a fake person. “I didn’t make it up. I’m in Starling General Hospital. My doctor is Dr Simmons. John has —“ She stops talking and shakes her head. Andrea Felicity Diggle is too pure to be brought into this horror. 

“What does John have, Felicity?” He asks, raising a brow at her in question. 

“Nothing,” she answers. “Absolutely nothing.”

There’s a stirring behind her and an arm tightens around her waist. “Felicity?” He asks sleepily. 

She recognizes Oliver’s voice immediately and when she turns to look he’s there next to her. She’s raised on her elbow, the phone in her hand against her ear, and the room around her is put back in order. The moon hanging in the sky to light up the city below. 

“Did I hear a phone?”

Felicity looks down at the receiver in her hand before she places it back on the cradle. “No.. it was nothing. Go back to sleep.”

His breath evens out as he does just that. Felicity doesn’t follow suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to be my friend/sounding board for other stories that I’m outlining, I would love it. I have thoroughly ostracized my sister who doesn’t even watch Arrow. Granted this would be full of spoilers for any future stories I write, so if you wanna avoid that, I get it!
> 
> You can reach me @ akiki03@gmail.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this is posted later today than normal!
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments (I’ll be replying as soon as I get this up), your kudos and reading and everything.
> 
> As per usual, I own nothing and I edit myself so all mistakes are mine.

\- - - -

  
Quentin throws the file on his desk and slumps into his seat. Barely twenty-four hours since he and his men ventured into the Glades and came out with a victim and two suspects. He’d already received two phone calls from the Chief of Police questioning why one of his Captains was personally handling a simple missing person case. He didn’t think that divulging the connection with the vigilante was a good idea, so he used the only trump card he had.

“Oliver Queen, sir,” he answered as though it was the only explanation that was needed. In a way it was. While his name might not hold as much weight as it once did, the Queens were still prominent members of society and contributed to the Mayor’s campaign. “He filed the report and I thought you’d want me on top of this.”

He was getting too old for this shit. This bureaucratic red tape that left his hands tied when it came to the vigilante, and subsequently, the two men locked away in the jail. That had him kissing ass out of both sides of his mouth. When he was younger and dumber, Quentin could solve his problem with two fingers of whiskey and an old-fashioned. Chase them with some beer and aspirin before heading out on patrol; hoping against hope that the cologne he’d bathed in masked enough of the scent from the booze oozing from his pores.

It didn’t. Not enough anyway. Suffice it to say, he had to find a new way to tackle his issues.

There’s a knock on his door and Quentin is out of his seat to answer it before the rapping stops. He wouldn’t put it past the Chief or the mayor to make a personal visit just to get some point across. When the person walking through the door turns out to be his oldest daughter, Quentin is decidedly more at ease. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets with a side hug and a kiss to her cheek. “Did I know you were coming?”

It wouldn’t be the first time that Quentin has forgotten a meeting with one of his daughters. The promotion and all that came with it had him missing coffee with Laurel and dinners with Sara. Not to mention the focus on finding Felicity. At least that had been the same for everyone. 

Quentin moves back around to sit in his desk chair and Laurel takes the seat across from him. It’s not a large office, bigger than a broom closet, but there is enough room for two chairs in case he needs to knock some heads together. 

“Not at all,” she replies, setting her purse in the free chair. “Can’t a daughter stop by to see her dear old dad after he’s had a rough night?”

Quentin looks at her pointedly, seeing for the first time that she’s in a pantsuit ready for work. “Not when that daughter should be on her way to court.”

“I’m not due for a couple hours.” Laurel shrugs and crosses her legs. “Plenty of time to see how you’re doing.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ve been a cop a long time, Laurel, longer than you’ve been alive. That was not the worst that I’ve seen.”

“I don’t disagree. I just think it’s the worst that you’ve seen for somebody that you care about.”

Laurel was a lot like him; she even inherited his poor problem solving skills, but this also meant she could see right through him. His girls knew how much they all meant to him, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that his oldest would worry about him. That’s just who she is. Still, Quentin has spent his adult years protecting his family and his city, so being looked out for by one of them is not easy for him to accept. 

“Dad, I didn’t see the room she was in but I heard everything. You can talk to me.”

“Have you heard how she’s doing?”

“I talked to Thea last night. Physically Felicity’s okay, she’ll heal just fine with some rest and food. She doesn’t remember a lot, so it’s hard to know what was done to her. She’s getting discharged today and is staying at the manor, for now.”

Those were all good things in Quentin’s book. Save for her staying with him, there wasn’t a safer place in this city than the Queen household. 

“Glad to hear it. You’re right, I don’t like my girls in danger, but it seems all three of you have decided to pick a hobby that’s nothing but dangerous. Your old man is just going to have to get used to it, I guess.”

Laurel tilts her head and smiles at him. “When are you gonna go see her?”

“Probably tomorrow. I’ll let her get settled before I barge in with my questions that she can’t answer.”

“Okay, and when are _you_ going to see her?”

She knows him so well. “Later today, maybe. Let her get settled before I barge in with all my questions she can’t answer.” He gives her a sheepish grin. 

“That’s better. Now, can I go do my job without worry about my father?” Laurel reaches for her handbag and Quentin stands as she does. 

“Go. I’m fine.” He really is. Last night was rough but it was also over. He is almost around his desk when he remembers the file he’d tossed on it. See? Already getting better in his old age. Scooping it up, he holds it out for Laurel to take. “Toxicology report. You’re saving me a trip.”

Laurel takes the file, gives her dad a kiss on the cheek, and is almost out the door before she turns on her heel. “Still on for dinner with Sara and I tonight?”

“I’ll cook,” he replies with a large smile.

\- - - -

Felicity didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She laid in bed with Oliver curled around her and listened to him breathe instead. Seemed like a better use of her time. She’d slept so much lately, or it seemed like she had, Felicity was still a little fuzzy on the particulars. Either way, that phone call woke her up and there was no falling asleep after that. 

She should also think about the implications of what falling asleep with Oliver meant in the long term. They were still coworkers, partners, best friends, and she saw no reason for that to change. Maybe she should set some boundaries. The smart thing would be to sit him down and explain that none of the aforementioned labels included sleeping together. Except, she just didn’t want to do that. Oliver gave her safety and security that she so sorely missed. 

Felicity knows that she’s a strong, independent woman, and could destroy any person that she wanted with a device and some internet. It’s a threat she’s wielded before and that kind of power can go far in making a person feel invincible. It’s partly why she let her guard down in the foundry. She had designed their security systems after all. Five weeks and some odd hours later, she’s found clarity in her situation. She’s learned that without those tools, she is utterly defenseless. 

So while the feminist in her says that she can handle any situation, Felicity is smart enough to know when she’s out of her depth. This situation, kidnappings and druggings and mysteriously shifting time, is so far out of her realm of expertise. It seems almost nonsensical to push him away out of some misguided attempt to save herself when he had _literally_ saved her. 

The sun rises a golden hew over the city and Oliver snuffles next to Felicity, his hands palming her back as he turns into her. She’s studying his features, tracing a line over his shoulder beneath the covers with the tip of her finger, when his eyes open slowly. Even sleepy they’re a brilliant shade of blue and when he sees hers staring back at him, she’s greeted with a snort and a grin that shows all of his teeth. 

“Good morning,” he yawns, turning his face away from her until he settles again. 

Again, Felicity is struck by how this should be awkward but it’s not. “God, I missed you.”

“Yeah?”

She nods vigorously and he reaches to brush her loose hair from her face. “Yeah. More than you could possibly know.”

“I think I have some idea.” He leans in so his forehead is resting against hers and Felicity thinks that this could never be anything but normal. Them sharing a space, sharing each other, just being together before the entire world barrels into their secure little bubble. 

Then he’s kissing her, soft and chaste, just a brush of his lips against hers, and she knows in her gut that this could be normal if they both just give in. “That much, huh?” She whispers without moving away. 

“So, so much more but the walls are glass and you’re recuperating.”

This they might need to talk about.

Her palm is cupping his cheek, thumb caressing his skin softly. He smooths his hands over her back before giving her just a peck before extricating himself from her to pull on his shoes. While he attempts to smooth his endlessly wrinkled shirt and jeans, she raises the bed and parks herself right in the center. 

“I’m going to find somebody to tell me when you can get out of here. I want you home.”

Felicity raises her brow at the moniker and she swears he blushes. She didn’t even know he could _do_ that. Maybe it’s why she grants him a reprieve and doesn’t press the issue further. “I want to go home, too.”

Oliver grabs a small brown leather bag and rifles through it. Felicity doesn’t remember seeing it the night before but it must have come with Thea last night. Oliver disappears into the bathroom and when he re-emerges, he’s wearing a new T-shirt. 

He drops the old one in the bag that he left on the seat and moves back to her side. Smoothing a hand over her hair, he raises her chin to look up at him. “Don’t go anywhere? I’ll be right back.”

“Couldn’t get far if I wanted to.” This time she takes the initiative. Her hand seeks his as she raises up and returns his affection. Before their lips even touch, she can smell the mint toothpaste on his breath. “Not fair,” she mumbles but Oliver doesn’t seem deterred if the hand clenching hers and the other on her neck, pulling her closer have anything to say about it. 

When he pulls away with a grumble and a groan, she concurs with the sentiment. When he’s walking through the door and she’s left alone, she can’t help but squeal in delight. They need to talk about this absolutely because they’ve apparently added platonically sleeping together and not-so-platonically kissing to their list of adjectives. She’s been fantasizing about this very thing since he walked into her office and not celebrating it feels like she’d be doing a disservice to fifteen year old Felicity with her frizzy hair and awkward charm. 

Celebrate now, adult later. 

\- - - -

Oliver is not gone long at all. It’s enough time for Felicity to trudge herself to the bathroom, brush her teeth, and scrape herself from the floor just to tumble onto the couch with the duffel bag on the other cushion. Thea packed another change of clothes, simple black leggings and a sweatshirt that must belong to the teen because it’s more fitted than Oliver’s Harvard shirt. It fits though and soon she’ll get to wear her own ratty clothes. 

She has her feet in brand new sneakers and is curled up on her side on the couch when the door opens again. Lifting her hand in a greeting, Felicity doesn’t raise her head. That was a lot of activity but she has fresh breath so if Oliver wants to be friends that kiss then it’ll be so worth it. 

“Why are you out of bed?” 

“I was brushing my teeth, Oliver. For the kissing. Is that okay with you if a girl wants to freshen up for all the kissing?”

Oliver moves the bag to the floor and raises her legs like a drawbridge so he can sit. Tying her shoes in silence, his palms rest on her calf when he finishes. “A girl can do whatever she wants, Felicity. _My_ girl needs to take care of herself. How can I do any of that kissing business you speak of when you’re asleep?”

There’s a playfulness to his tone that combined with his word choice makes her stomach swoop. There was that word again. Squinting, she reaches out to him and he gives her his hand. “When we’re alone and have time we really need to talk about that possessive pronoun.”

“Absolutely.” He intertwines their fingers and she can feel him settling back against the couch. “The doctor will be here soon and then we can get you settled in at the manor. Thea is already making up a room for you near the both of us.”

Felicity nods but doesn’t bother opening her eyes. “I know you told the doctor that you’ll take care of me while I get my strength back, but honestly, I can make it work at home. I can park myself on my couch and buy one of those grabby claw things for added reach.”

“That’s an image - Ow.” He whines as she kicks at him playfully which pulls a giggle from her. “Even if you were just physically exhausted, I would want you with me, but adding that there’s still at least one guy unaccounted for I want you near me for safety.”

“Unaccounted for?” Felicity opens her eyes and looks at him half over the rim of her glasses. “Explain that sentence.”

“At the school there were two men that attacked us and we were able to take them down, but the man in the videos, the doctor you were talking with wasn’t there.”

Pushing herself up, she adjusts her frame on her nose and holds tight to his hand. “I thought you got them. All of them. He was there. I swear to God, Oliver, he was there. He said…”

She trails off as she tries to remember this room in the middle of the night. That he was sitting right where they are but he wasn’t actually in the room. 

“What is it?”

She closes her eyes and takes a few breaths. He’s wheeling her through hallways she doesn’t recognize but his voice sounds the same. “He said somebody had messed up, you were early, and he’d be back to continue our chat.”

“You never saw him after that?”

“No. I saw you and Sara and Roy, never him until .. last night.”

It’s Oliver’s turn to look at her in confusion. “Last night?”

“I woke up and I thought I heard the phone but there was nobody there. Except, I saw him sitting on this very couch. It was like I was back there and everything was bright and he was talking about you not being real. When you woke up, I was still holding the phone.”

“Didn’t I ask you if I heard a phone ring?” He’s none too pleased to be hearing about this hours later. 

“I just thought it was like the doctor said that I’d have relapses or whatever. I thought you got him and how would he make a phone call in jail? How would he even know what room I’m in?”

Oliver wraps his other hand around hers and nods in understanding. “I don’t like that he can get to you like that. Without me even knowing. We don’t even know who this guy is or what he wants.”

“Um..” Felicity hesitates, licking her lips. “What about his name? Maybe we can track him. Find out where he’s been before.. it wasn’t a common name. I called him Dr Golov.” She waits for any recognition and when she doesn’t get any, she keeps talking. “I can’t remember the whole thing but it was like Russian or Ukranian.”

Oliver sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s an alias. Golovokruzheniye - means dizzy or -“

“Vertigo,” she says at the same time. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Okay. First, I need to put a trigger warning: gun at school. It’s not graphically described but it is a part of the backstory to the character.
> 
> Next, this is the shortest chapter thus far but I struggled with this being part of a whole or standalone and this just feels right. 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to show your support in all of the different ways that you do. 
> 
> All rights go to Arrow!

\- - - -

Young Jonathan Crane was the bookish sort. Some called him too smart for his own good. He was most certainly too smart for anyone else’s good. A voracious reader, he always had his nose in a book, learning one thing or another. A hobby that kept him tucked away indoors so his coloring ranged from fair to sickly. Coupling that with the fact that he was more limbs than torso and poor Jonathan Crane really never had a fair shot. 

The other kids taunted and teased, calling him names and poking fun at his appearance. They called him ‘Ichabod’ in the hallways. They likened him to a Daddy Longlegs between classes. They laughed at the way he spoke, at his intelligence, at his everything. 

He embraced the weird and awkward. Leaned into the names given to him like they were a badge of honor. If little girls were made of sugar and spice and everything nice, Jonathan Crane was made of ichor and grime and revulsion. 

The books he gravitated to were full of medical jargon and pictures. He read about psychology and the influences on it. He read about death in all its forms. He highlighted and tagged and gleefully wrote notes in the margins. He conducted his own experiments to answer his own questions. Are ants scared of the sun? How about fire? Do they run and flee in fright? Are birds afraid to fall? 

When the taunting grew, he stopped experimenting on the neighborhood animals and wildlife. Instead, he focused his attention on his classmates. Jonathan trapped snakes and shoved them into desks just to hear the girls scream. He hung rodents in lockers because he could. He charted and took notations on reactions to his endeavors. He multiplied his efforts and changed his victims just to keep them on their toes. 

Fear became his obsession, and so did Sherry Squires. Her desk was always left empty while those around her found rat tails and snake skins and spiders. While he analyzed ways to make others shriek and cower in fright, he imagined a way they could do it together. She would be his greatest achievement. When he finally worked up the nerve to ask her to the school dance his senior year, she laughed and rolled her eyes. 

“You’re a joke, Ichabod,” she told him with a snort. “Not even if you were the last person on Earth.”

Sherry went with Bo Griggs and Jonathan Crane went with a gun. The plebeians feared death above all else, he’d learned. He could show them real fear. The kind that left them quaking and shaking and trembling down to their bones. He could teach them the power that came from knowing of one’s fears. He could do that for them. 

Jonathan Crane, all spindly arms and legs, brandished a firearm in the parking lot of Gotham City High School. Though nobody would know it was him as he wore a burlap mask with sunken eyes and tattered clothing like the scarecrow they’d likened him to. He could hear the revelry before he even entered the building. The students inside dancing beneath cardboard stars and twinkling fairy lights. Streamers in shades of silver and black were twisted together and hung scalloped among the stars. Everyone laughed with joy as the music pulsed through the crowd. 

Excitement and mirth morphed into mayhem when Jonathan and his weapon made their appearance. He cackled as they scattered. Student clamoring over student to get to the nearest exit. He could see their panic as they scurried away. He could _smell_ their dread and it filled him with superiority. 

Out to the parking lot he ventured jovially while those around him shrieked and fell over each other to get to their cars. Across the way, he spied Bo and Sherry in a truck black as pitch. He aimed and Bo panicked, spinning the wheel until his tires smoked and he lost control. Jonathan, not having fired a single bullet, ended a life that night. While Bo had been buckled, Sherry had not. Her life snuffed out like a flame in the wind. 

The exhilaration coursed through his veins, thrumming with the knowledge of his capabilities. He’d taught them all the strength of one’s fears and so he would continue to learn and grow. He’d attend university. He’d study and analyze, receive high marks. He’d become a psychologist and work for the asylum. He’d continue his experiments in secret. Young Jonathan that tore the wings off flies would grow into a man that wrenched the souls from people. 

“What is your greatest fear?” He’d query. “What leaves you in a cold sweat, jolting awake in the middle of the night?” 

Day after day, he’d question to no avail. When his subjects finally responded, he’d show them exactly what they described until their voices ceased and they were left broken or worse. Along the way, he used the notes that he’d jotted and his knowledge of biochemistry to create a powder that induced his captors' visions. Showed them images from the worst of their imaginations. 

He became a professor at Gotham University. He dusted his papers with his toxin and watched the ensuing destruction. He taught the next generation about fears and phobias. Once again, he brought a gun to campus and flailed it around in the presence of his class, pointing it to the sky and firing a single shot. 

Jonathan was disciplined on a Tuesday, fired on a Wednesday, and killed the man in charge on a Thursday. One more body to add to his list of sins. 

Then he was approached by a well-dressed woman that promised him a lab and a limitless budget to carry out his experiments if he came to work for her. A new city and a new start were too valuable to pass up. The promised test subject might have also been a factor in his decision to accept. 

The same woman now stands in the doorway of his office within the Queen Consolidated building. She wears a black dress and a scowl. It’s a weekend and the majority of the offices are vacant. Everyone home with their families until the work week begins anew. Not him. He has a lot of compensating to do now that he’d lost his only source of data. Probably the very reason for her demeanor.

“If you’re going to seethe, please, do so from your office, not the doorway of mine,” he says without bothering to look up from the report he’s perusing. 

“You’re rather calm considering our current situation.” 

“And what situation is that, Miss Rochev? Please enlighten me.”

She steps forward into the room, her heels clacking across the floor as she traverses the empty space. “Your incompetence for one.”

He’s accustomed to the insults to his appearance and character, but Jonathan will not stand for slander against his intelligence. He’s proven himself more times than not. When she finishes speaking, his shoulders tense but he calms himself before they begin to shake with anger. 

“Might I remind you,” he begins, raising his head to glare at her with steel eyes and contempt. “That _you_ came to _me_ . Not the other way around. You procured the imbeciles that led them straight to us. You didn’t ensure their idiocy wouldn’t interfere with _my trials._ What’s the use of providing me with a test patient if you’re just going to _lose_ them?”

Isabel came to a stop in front of his desk. It matched the rest of the building aesthetic; simple and entirely made of glass. He had some reports strewn about, charts and graphs mostly, to monitor the impact of artificially induced hysteria in his test subject during various doses of the toxin. This one fought so splendidly against the effects he’d questioned if the strength could ever be matched. He’d recently reformulated when Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum had decided to become street vendors. 

“You’re right,” Isabel replies as if Jonathan actually needs her to say the words. “I’ll get that mess cleaned up quickly. Your test patient is hardly lost, Mr Crane. I know exactly where she’s staying and exactly who is with her.”

The sound of his fist slamming onto the desk startles her and she takes a step back. “That is not the point. Felicity is walking, talking, proprietary information. She has millions of dollars in research just coursing through her veins.”

“We always agreed they would find her when the time was right.”

Standing to his full height, Jonathan walks around the desk to crowd Isabel. His hands behind his back, he towers over her, his upper torso angling in such a way that she has to lean back in order to look up at him. 

He drops his voice to a rasp as he grows ever more serious. “The time is right when I say it’s right. I want my test patient back, Isabel. I have been a very patient man with your subterfuge and constant whining about boardroom proxies, but my patience is finite. I want my data! This will push everything back and _you owe me_ . Don’t test me or what I do to you will make what Ms Smoak has been through look like a day at the spa.” His voice drops as his mouth moves to rest against the shell of her ear. “ _I know where all your demons lie_.”

He dismisses her with a wave of his hand, turning his back to her. “Don’t bother cleaning up. It’s already in motion.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the continued support. It means so much! 
> 
> As always, I don’t have a beta and I don’t own anything Arrow related.

\- - - - 

  
Oliver,” Felicity says with exasperation. “You’re not carrying me up the stairs.”

A full 22 hours had passed with Felicity as a guest in the Queen manor. She had, for the most part, been relegated to the upstairs guest room Thea had so grandly made up for her. 

“ _We rarely have guests, Felicity. Let me be my mother’s daughter just this once.”_

_The request had been made with a cheeky grin, so Felicity couldn’t really tell if it was serious or not. Didn’t really matter in the end, once she saw the gleam of happiness in the youngest Queen’s eyes upon first viewing her temporary housing._

_The room she’d been given matched the old money elegance of the manor’s lower level. The wood accents and paneling were perfectly polished and shined like the Chrysler building. The walls were wallpapered, rather than painted, in the prettiest jewel-toned sapphire with a matte filigree that could easily be missed but added a touch of elegance._

_There was a fainting chair next to the window that overlooked the yard and carefully picked accessories on all of the recently dusted surfaces. When the door had been opened so that Felicity could see it all, she’d been overwhelmed by the welcoming gesture. Tucked against Oliver’s side, she’d let him loose so she could shuffle her way inside, grasping one of the four posts of the bed._

_The very high, very lush, bed that was impossible to miss. The bedding looked more expensive than Felicity’s entire closet (including shoes), and she could only imagine that once the eighteen decorative pillows were removed, it would be her favorite place in the entire house._

_“Thea -“ Her protests of ‘too much’ and ‘you really shouldn’t have’ just couldn’t be formed when she’d turned to look at the young woman. Thea’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her chest, her eyes wide at the expression on Felicity’s face. “Your mother would be very proud.”_

_What had once been a cautious grin morphed into a full blown radiant smile that showed all of Thea’s pristinely white teeth. With an_ oomph, _Felicity found herself in a full-blown hug and on the receiving end of Thea’s appreciation._

_“Thank you, Felicity. I’m really happy you’re here.”_

_Smoothing a hand over the other girl’s hair, Felicity could feel just how_ young _Thea actually is. She had to grow up fast after losing the only father she ever knew and the brother she’d grown up with before she was even a teenager. Orphaned at nineteen, put in charge of a club she can’t legally drink at, and then finding out the miracle sibling that had come back from the dead shoots arrows at people. It’s a lot to say, Felicity couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Thea to live through it._

_“I’m so happy to be here, Thea.” Even if the circumstances were less than ideal._

_Over the brunette’s shoulder, Felicity caught Oliver’s eye. He was relaxed against the door frame watching the both of them intently. The faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked lighter than Felicity could ever remember seeing him. Like he’d finally dropped a few of the burdens he carried around with him._

_Her confusion over how that had happened must have shown on her face because Oliver tilted his head and crinkled his brow at her in question. With a shake of her head and a wave of her hand, she dismissed it and went back to Thea._

_Stepping back, Thea never dropped the prominent grin that graced her face. “Okay. You get in bed and let us take care of you. I’ve got this all planned. Raisa is making chicken noodle soup for lunch and I already went to the pharmacy to buy all of the vitamins and pedialyte.”_

_Felicity’s brow shot to the ceiling and she looked at Oliver for assistance._

_“Pedialyte?”_

_Thea shrugged in response. “It’s supposed to be a miracle hangover cure. Drunk sorority girls talk about it all the time. Something about electrolytes and replenishing fluids. I figured if it helps them get to their 8am classes after staying until last call then it’d be good for getting Felicity back to the basement.”_

_“Oh.” Felicity’s mouth was stuck in a perfect circle as Thea flitted around the room seemingly oblivious to the emotion her care and concern had drudged up in the blonde._

_“And, look, I bought you a bell!” And just because she couldn’t_ not _do it, Thea rattled the little silver hand bell so the sound tinkled throughout the room._

“Felicity, you are exhausted. I should have insisted that you stayed in bed for breakfast.”

She wouldn’t entirely say that she was stuck upstairs. Oliver was with her as much as possible. Before she’d had to get to Verdant, Thea had made camp on her bed, taking the opportunity to learn about each other. Felicity’s one request had been to eat breakfast with everyone downstairs and Oliver had acquiesced. Now, she was paying for it.

“I’m a little ti—“ Yawning mid-sentence is really a death knell for her argument but Felicity perseveres. “Fine! I’m exhausted, which is why you can _assist_ me up the stairs but my feet stay on the ground.”

It’s somewhat of a compromise, so Oliver raises his arm and Felicity squeezes underneath it to hold tight to his side. They move slowly this way with a pause on each step before moving to the next, but Felicity is moving under her own will-power so she’ll add it to the win column. Those have been few and far between lately. 

When they reach her room, he helps her into bed, adjusting the blankets over her as she settles in. Her first assessment of her new bed had been accurate. She sinks easily into the plush mattress, the pillows forming perfectly to her head as she cuddles beneath the sheets and duvet. Oliver gently removes her glasses, letting the ear pieces fall where they may as he sets them on the nightstand. 

He leans over to give her a soft kiss to her temple and Felicity snakes her hand from beneath the covers to graze her fingers over his stubble. She gives a pleased hum and lets her eyes close, feeling safe in his presence. 

“Stay,” she whispers, her tired fingers dropping to his jaw and then to the bed. She’s sure he probably has things to take care of at work, but she’s not above asking for what she wants right now. And what she wants is to not be alone. 

Last night, she had dreamt of days in the sun with Oliver. Vacations in cabins holed up in the mountains with snow, just the two of them. Then the events of the day corrupted her night and it was no longer her and Oliver. It was her and the Count in the Executive office at Queen Consolidated. 

His hands roamed her body, squeezed her shoulders, whispered in her ear. The terror she’d felt rose to make her heart beat relentlessly in her chest, her pulse racing in her ears as he raised the syringe. Oh, how she hated needles. That fear only compounded as he gripped her ponytail in a tight fist, wrenching her head back to expose her neck. 

“What’s your greatest fear, Felicity? Is it being all alone? Unwanted and abandoned.” His words hissed and his breath slithered over her skin tracing the path his fingers had created over her neck. Turning her head, she could see his face as he’d been just before Oliver had imbedded three arrows into his chest. His grin smug and eyes shining with amusement at the upper hand he mistakenly thought he had. Except the arrows never came and that smug smile dissolved; his face disappearing in droplets, seeping like blood from a wound, to reveal the man that had held her captive for so long. 

“I told you I’d be back, Felicity.”

She’d woken with a scream and Oliver had been right there already holding her tightly. Felicity didn’t know what she would have done if she’d found herself alone in that room.

Oliver moves to the other side of the bed at her request and crawls beneath the covers. His arm bands about her waist, pulling her to the middle of the bed, her back against his front. It’s warm and comforting and Felicity thinks about how wrong she was at her assessment of the bed. No, _this_ place, in Oliver’s arms, is her favorite place in the entire house.

“When the Count called me that night,” he says softly, his chin tucked against her shoulder. She knows he’s thinking about the same thing that she is. “I could hear you in the background. He did _something_ and the noise you made tore me apart. I thought, _This is it. This is how I lose her._ ”

Felicity shuffles against him, grasping his hand and pulling it up to kiss his palm before tracing her index over the lines and calluses. She wants to give him the comfort he sorely needs, but words won’t do right now. Just days ago, there had been a moment when she’d thought of these hands as weapons. What an idiot she had been. These hands have treated her with nothing but kindness. They’re strong, resourceful, and tender. Delicate. Soft. They would never hurt her. 

“When Diggle told me that you were missing, I had those same thoughts. _This is it. This is how I lose her_.” He presses his lips to the curve of her neck as the memory overtakes him, settling into her before he begins again. “Losing my father had been hard. Losing my mother was unbearable in a different way. At least my dad had died for a reason, a purpose. There was no purpose to Slade’s revenge.”

Felicity can’t let him think that his mother’s death had no meaning. Without her death, Thea or Oliver could be gone and that is just unthinkable. “Moira didn’t die for no reason, Oliver. She sacrificed herself for her children and that is _everything_. Without that,” she breathes out unsteadily and shakes her head at the mere thought. “I can’t even think about the alternative.”

She can feel him nod against her but it’s the only acknowledgement he’s willing to give her. He clears his throat, swallowing the lump forming in his throat and finds his voice again. “I had avoided going to her funeral and was hiding away at a secondary base when Diggle found me. I didn’t even think about you wondering where I was or - or looking for me. I was just in so much pain, Felicity, and I couldn’t be around all of those people, Thea, with that weight on my chest. I just… but if I had known...”

She pauses her exploration and turns over in his arms so that she can see his face. She needs to look at him when they have this talk, so he can’t hide behind words he doesn’t mean. Her palm connects with his cheek, his days old stubble scratchy against her smooth skin. “I’m going to say something and I _need_ you to listen to me, Oliver. I do not blame you for what happened to me. You lost your mother, and there is no guilt or apology needed for how you chose to manage your grief.”

She can see the protest on his lips but with a firm shake of the hand cupping his cheek, she pulls his eyes to hers. She looks at him with determination and a belief in him that she doesn’t know if he’ll ever have in himself. “Absolutely none. Do you understand me?”

She waits for his acknowledgment which comes with a nod, and a slow closure of his eyes, a stray tear sneaking past his lashes to travel down his cheek. Felicity caresses his skin with the pad of her thumb, sweeping over the errant drop to clear it away. Raising up, she gently brushes her lips over one eye and then the other. Clearing away another tear that follows the same path as the previous. The love she feels for this damaged man in front of her soars in her chest, blooming until she can’t take a breath because it fills her so fully.

“You take care of everyone else. Always putting yourself last,” Felicity whispers, letting her words carry the weight of their meaning. “Let me take care of you.”

His arm tightens around the curve of her waist to close the whisper of a gap between them. Her leg moves over his hip, and his forehead rests against hers, but not before brushing their lips together. He smells like clean soap and spice with a tinge of floral, which might just be the sheets they are burrowed under. 

Her nails, no longer chipped nor lilac but a brilliant mauve courtesy of Thea, skim his jaw while her other hand is pressed flat against his chest. She can feel the rise and fall of his breaths, each one shaking with emotion. “I can’t lose you,” he murmurs, his voice breaking over the four words. 

The hand on his jaw moves to comb through the shorn hair by his temple and she leans ever closer to drop a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Oh, Oliver… you’re not going to lose me.”

“Except I did. You were lost, Felicity. Utterly and irrevocably lost to me.” He hasn’t moved away so she holds him close, combing her fingers through his hair for comfort. “I thought that by keeping my distance, not being with somebody that I could really care about, I was saving you from me and my past. The decisions that I made.”

He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes. His are a stormy blue, full of sadness and guilt. “Except you were taken anyway. Not being with you didn’t stop the agony of you being gone. It didn’t make me feel any less guilty for not being there when you needed me. It showed me that the only thing that we’re missing out on by not being together is _being together_ , and I want to be with you, Felicity. You’ve always been my girl, and you’ll always be my girl, but I want you to be _mine_ just as much as I am _yours_.”

“I am,” she says without hesitation. “I am yours, Oliver. I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.”

The sadness in his blue orbs dissipates at her words though it never leaves entirely. It probably never will, she knows. There’s a rustling of the sheets as his hand skims her waist, moving north over the side of her pajama-covered breast, up her bicep to peek out from the covers, his fingers tucking her mostly blonde hair behind her ear. 

She knows she’s worse for wear. Her lips are chapped and her eyes keep unfocusing in her sleep-deprived state, but this is Oliver and he’s worth everything. His fingers are dancing over the back of her neck, massaging ever so gently, bringing her towards him as his lips find hers again. She omits a subtle noise of approval at the contact, her fingers curling in the cotton of his t-shirt in return. 

There’s no urgency behind his movements. No pressure to deepen their intimacy. His tongue sweeps across her lower lip but doesn’t take the opportunity to delve further when her own lips part at his request. She returns the gesture in kind, exploring but not plunging. 

Oliver’s the one that pulls back first, adding a chaste peck and a brush of his nose before they lose all contact from the neck up. Felicity can’t seem to find the strength to open her eyes so she keeps her head on the pillow certain she has a ridiculous grin on her face. That theory is only compounded when Oliver chuckles softly. “Baby, you need to rest. It’s barely been 48 hours.”

Felicity thinks she mumbles her agreement but she can’t argue it with any certainty. There have been so many times when Oliver had been injured and all Felicity wanted to do was take care of him. He’d been dismissive and argumentative, and it lasted all of ten minutes. She knows that feeling of concern and fear and just wanting to do something to assist. So, she lets him take care of her the way she knows she’s tried to take care of him in the past. 

She feels the pad of his index trace her hairline and down along her jaw. Her lips part on a sigh at the contact. This was more than she could ever have hoped for when Oliver walked into her office and her life. He doesn’t stop the gentle caress of her skin, moving to follow the curve of her lip, and then moving back up to trace the path again. 

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispers, feeling the exhaustion weighing down her emotions more than they should. 

There’s a dip of the bed that Felicity realizes is Oliver moving just before he peppers kisses over her face. “Never. I’m yours as long as you want me and even then..”

She falls asleep wrapped in his warmth, feeling it radiating from her heart to every finger and toe and limb. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for continuing to comment and leave kudos and read. 
> 
> I don’t own anything Arrow.

\- - - -

Oliver lays with Felicity until her breaths even out and he’s certain that she won’t wake when he moves. While he knew they’d needed to talk about the changes their relationship was experiencing, he hadn’t expected for it to happen the way it had. He just couldn’t be in that bed, holding her, without telling her how he felt. 

He’d bared his soul to her, and with such grace, Felicity had embraced it. No matter how dark and broken he believed it to be. 

With a swipe of his index, he tucks her hair behind her ear, and kisses her forehead gently. Her skin is warm and soft against his lips and he smiles before reluctantly pulling away. She looks so peaceful lying beneath the mound of covers. The flush is returning to her cheeks and the dark moons under her eyes dissipate with each passing hour of her recuperation.

He can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. How beautiful she always looks.

Slipping from underneath the covers, Oliver makes sure that she’s still sleeping before leaving the room entirely. He won’t be gone long but he knows how she’ll panic if she wakes up alone. 

He’d called the office before breakfast to let them know he was working from home. His meetings rescheduled pending Felicity’s recovery. The men in Applied Sciences will just have to wait. While he has a few reports on the server, most everything pertaining to the research and development is in a pile on his desk. 

Oliver shoots a couple texts to Sarah, Roy, and Diggle. They’ve been on the streets while he’s been with Felicity. Laurel has been keeping tabs on the men that were caught and left for the SCPD to process. Last update they were being transferred to Iron Heights. 

It doesn’t take long for him to collect his laptop, tablet, and a cup of coffee from Raisa in the kitchen before he’s back in Felicity’s room. Where they are doesn’t matter to him. His room has never really felt the same since his return. It’s more of a time capsule for the person that he used to be. Everywhere he looks is a memory of an argument with Laurel, or a fight with his father, or Thea’s giggles as she woke him up midday after he’d slept late from a hangover.

The room that they’re in now, Felicity’s room, seems perfect for them to start something new in their relationship. It’s the room that Tommy always stayed in when he would spend the night in their younger years. It only seems fair that the most important person in his life occupies it now. 

Oliver had managed to make himself quite comfortable after shuffling some furniture around. He has a round pedestal table holding his coffee while he has moved the fainting couch to face the bed so he can keep an eye on Felicity while he works. 

Hours after he settled himself in, he’s finally pulling up one of the reports from the A.S military contract on his tablet. He’s flipping through, splaying his fingers to zoom in on specific notes in the margins. There are handwritten phrases about ‘ _ pliancy in the patient’ _ and ‘ _ efficacy of the treatment’  _ though none of them elaborate. Not to mention, they’re next to formulas and percentages that he wouldn’t have any idea what they mean if he  _ hadn’t  _ dropped out of four universities.

When the sun is high in the sky, Oliver’s phone vibrates on the round table next to his empty mug. Swiping it quickly, he glances at the caller I.D before accepting the call.

“Quentin,” he greets in a hushed voice, locking his tablet and setting it on the cushion next to him. “No, no, it’s okay.. I’m working, she’s resting.. I just have a hard time -“ he pauses to let the other man speak. “Exactly. Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. No, of course, we understand. Like I said, she’s resting and you know how sorely she needs it. Tomorrow then?”

There’s a rustling on the bed and Oliver can hear her sharp intake of air as Felicity stretches her limbs. It’s followed by a groan and then a sigh. Adorable. And all signs that she slept peacefully unlike the night before. 

“You know how much she misses you. Right… you’re welcome any time.”

Oliver leans forward and watches the pile on the bed as the covers shift until he can see her face poking above them. Her hair is unruly, long and tangled in waves over her shoulders. He sucks in a breath at the sight, surprising even him with how responsive he is to her. 

When he catches her spectacled eye, he mouths  _ Quentin _ with a gesture to the phone. 

“Tell him, I love him,” she says quickly.

“Felicity says she loves you,” he complies and there’s a pause and chuckle before he speaks again. “No, no, you didn’t. Not at all.”

Oliver stands from the couch and clears the distance to the bed in only a few strides. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he leans forward as she lifts her chin, a cheeky grin on her face.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Quentin.” He ends with a quick goodbye and tosses the phone onto the sea of bedding before capturing Felicity’s lips with his. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” she hums, arms behind her to push her up on the bed so she can kiss him again. 

This, he could get used to. Waking up with a warm and cozy and affectionate Felicity.

When she’s had her fill, she leans back against the pillows. “You changed.”

Oliver looks down at his jeans and tshirt with a nod. “I did. John and Lyla are coming over with Andi. Quentin has a last minute meeting with the mayor, so he had to reschedule for tomorrow. He said he loves you, too, by the way.”

Felicity nods with another quiet hum. “What time is it?”

“A little after noon. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” she answers with a decisive nod.

“I’ll have Raisa bring up some of the soup from yesterday.”

“I can go down. I feel really good, Oliver.”

He wants to argue. The words are just hanging on the tip of his tongue to protest, insist she stay up here, but he knows her. Most of all, he trusts her. Trusts that she knows her limits and what she is, or is not, capable of doing. Pushing all of those feelings and words down, he nods slowly. “Okay.”

Her raised brow is the only question she gives him before she climbs out of bed and they head downstairs. Oliver watches her the entire way and has to admit that there’s a pep in her step that wasn’t there previously. 

Raisa’s gone to the store or off somewhere else keeping the household running, so Oliver heats up Felicity’s lunch. She eats with one hand holding his and when she’s finished, she clasps his hand with both of hers. He doesn’t know if she’s aware she’s doing it, or if it’s something unconscious to her.

He revels in it either way. 

“Thea brought you clothes from your apartment.” 

“She didn’t have to do that. I could have gone today.”

“Diggle was going to go and Thea wanted to just buy a new wardrobe, but they compromised and she went. Something about idiotic men and unmentionables in dressers. Honestly, it was less of a headache than trying to understand what she was talking about.”

With a tilt of her head and a purse of her lips, she chastises him without a word. 

“There’s a bag upstairs in our - your room.”

The grin she gives him lights up her entire face. Hell, the entire room. “I’ll just head back up to  _ ‘our - my’ _ room then.”

He can feel the heat on his cheeks and when she sees Oliver Queen blushing, Felicity lets out the most melodic laughter that he’s ever heard. It’s a sound he’ll work to hear every single day. 

She insists that she can traverse the stairs herself, “It’s not the Swiss Alps, Oliver.” So, while she showers, he cleans the dishes and the kitchen before Raisa comes back to even more work for herself.

They spend the day together, curled up on the couches downstairs, and talk. Something they don’t get to do very often. He’s just starting to tell her how Thea became involved in their night project when the Diggle/Michael’s brigade arrives. 

Andi is too little for toys, so she spends much of the time cuddled in Felicity’s protective arms. It’s only when Andi needs to eat that the blonde relents and hands her back over to her mother. There’s a tinge of sadness that Oliver can see between glances as he strategizes with Diggle, and he makes a note to talk about it later since it disappears once Andi is back in her embrace once again. 

It’s a good day, a great one, really. They have dinner with Thea and Roy before they breeze back out to go to the club. When John, Lyla, and little Andi head home, Felicity and him get ready for bed. 

“Today was the best day, Oliver,” she says when they’re back under the covers and back in each other’s arms. 

He brushes his nose against hers and kisses her forehead. “The first of many.”

He knows all the days in the future are not going to be as good as this one, but he hopes they come close. 

\- - - -

If you asked Levon Johnson’s third grade teacher how she would describe him, she would have said, “Impulsive. Needs to think before he acts.”

Levon was born in Syracuse, on the side of a road where mistakes happen. He was raised, if it could even be called that, in Hell’s Kitchen in New York. Where the devil called home. He shared a one bedroom apartment with his mother, brother, and aunt. Technically, his brother, Vinny, is actually his cousin, but they’re the same age and both the product of alcohol and Fleet week. Their fathers are Naval officers that don’t even know they exist. 

Vincent Johnson could be his twin. They’re both tall and well-built, bulky some might say, and pigheaded. Growing up they were inseparable. Feeding off of each other’s bad ideas and impulses. Levon emulated the other boys at school, no matter how poor their decisions, and Vinny followed Levon. It was Levon that decided to join the Army, Vinny tagging along much like he had in their formative years. They enlisted together and started boot camp together. 

They were stationed apart. Separated for the first time. Vinny was forced to find his own way in the world rather than relying on the strengths of his family. While Vinny thrived, Levon deteriorated. He’d lost his brother, his pack, and it left him rudderless. He drank, he fought, he found a minute of comfort in other men’s wives. 

Half way through his six year term, he received a call that his mother had been on her way home from the bodega when a mugger happened upon her. She’d died quickly, the police had said, though Levon was suspect on how they knew. His mother had been young when he was born, and she’d made more than a few mistakes. The anger that had been boiling beneath the calm appearance roared to life. Levon argued with his CO, throwing a punch when he was disciplined. 

At 21 years old, Levon was dishonorably discharged and sent packing. He avoided Hell’s Kitchen and all the bad memories it held. He traveled, stopping at bars that held questionable characters. He played pool and darts and lost more than he won. In a dirt road town, off a highway without a billboard, somewhere in the middle of a flyover state, he met a man that introduced him to underground fight clubs.

Levon took his anger and poured it into every fight. He left better men broken and bloodied. He trained and he competed, traveling from state to state. People placed bets and Levon made money. Three years after his mother’s murder, he went back to Hell’s Kitchen, and found the man that left her alone and bleeding on a New York street. Levon did what Levon did best. He left the man broken and bloodied this time without a pulse.

Six years would pass before Levon would see his brother again. They’d meet in a bar and Levon would tell him all about this Australian he met abroad, about this man’s plans to take over a coastal city. That he’d pay handily for men that specialized in protection. It didn’t take much convincing for Vinny to slip back into his old ways and follow his brother to hell, and ultimately into a jail cell waiting to be transferred to Iron Heights prison.

Levon and Vincent were accustomed to tight spaces. From their one room apartment to boot camp to the barracks, they’d been in their fair share of cramped rooms. The jail wasn’t any different. They at least had their own rooms and beds, which was more than Levon had as he traversed the country. 

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Vinny had worked his ass off to convince Levon that blindly following a crazy person would lead to certain death. While Levon had wanted to stick around, see the action, his brother had grown wiser in their years apart. He didn’t see how a super steroid was in any way a good idea. So, he found them a way out. Found business for the both of them in a different venue. 

And it worked for a while. They guarded the girl and they got paid for it. Easiest job either of them had ever had. There was the rare occasion when she’d put up a physical fight. Most of the time they were just bored, so Levon pilfered some of the Count’s drug and sold it on the street. Just a couple of times to rid himself some debt.

And then the Arrow came and everything stopped working for them. His team was stronger, faster, better… just better… and now here the Johnson boys sit. Not cellmates, but close to it, waiting for somebody to file something to get rid of the transport delay. They were supposed to be moved today but a law clerk fucked up and didn’t file the right paper. Levon’s a bit fuzzy on the specifics but he doesn’t really care. They’re here, they’re not going anywhere else, so why ask questions.

They can talk through the wall though Vinny hasn’t been too keen on replying. He blames Levon for this whole mess, and Levon blames himself. He’d talked the kid into it, but Levon will take the blame so Vinny can be released. He’d already decided that and would be sure to make it clear to whatever public defender he got that his confession was non-negotiable.

When the lights go out for seemingly no reason, Levon sits up on the thin mattress and whispers into the night. “Hey. Vinny? Pst. Hey.”

He can hear a rustling next door and some grunts but silence has been the norm and that doesn’t seem to have changed despite the odd occurrence. 

Call it sixth sense or maybe it’s his training, but whatever it is, Levon can feel the presence of another person in his cell. 

“Hey! Who’s there?” 

“Hello, Levon,” comes a voice from the darkness.

Levon knows that voice. He’s been around it enough over the last month and a half. “Boss?”

“I expected more from you, Levon. Is it that hard to watch one measly test subject?”

Levon moves to stand, his eyes searching the darkness for his former employer. His eyes haven’t adjusted though and he can’t even see his hand in front of his face.

“W-we just took a little product off the top, y’know..” He can’t justify his actions. He knows that. Stealing from your employer in this line of work is deadly. “Sorry, Vertigo. We can give you the money.”

That’s a lie. They don’t have all of the money any more. 

“I  _ hate _ that name,” he replies, disdain dripping from his words. “She gave it to me -  _ Isabel _ \- said it was part of the cover in case word got out what we were doing. I’ve had many a name, you see. Ichabod, for one. Prince of Panic. Master of Fear. Do you know the name I prefer, Levon?”

Levon’s heart is already racing. If he thought that the Count was going to get him and Vinny out of here, he knows for certain that’s not happening now. Swallowing with a gulp, he shakes his head as his eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. He can see a form, darker than the area around it, looming in front of him. His reply is a stutter of consenants. 

The shadow gets closer until Levon can make out every feature. The black, sunken eyes, haphazardly sewn shut maw. The hangman’s noose around his throat. The leather like skin that encompasses his entire head. The tattered clothing. It’s terrifying. Levon stumbles backward but the wall is in his path of retreat. 

“Call me  _ Scarecrow _ .” The Scarecrow moves closer to him until Levon could swear they share the same space. He has no eyes but Levon would swear he’s staring into his soul. “What’s your greatest fear, Levon? It’s not your death you fear. No. It’s somebody else’s. Who do you see screaming in agony?”

Levon feels the prick of the needle before he can even see the man, creature, moving. “Now you can see what happens to men that cross me, Levon. Feel your pulse race, your heart crescendo in percussion until it just… stops.”

His long fingers spread in the air with a flourish as he puffs a bit of air. “ _ Poof.” _

Before Levon knows it, he’s alone in the dark. He can hear the murmur of voices next door and he can practically see Vinny having the same conversation with the same creature. Then, it’s like the entire wall gives away, and Levon can  _ see _ Vinny and the Scarecrow through the wall. The Scarecrows meager fingers clutching tightly around Vinny’s throat, squeezing the life from him. Vinny’s eyes wide open and accusing as he rasps, “ _ You did this to me. It’s your fault.” _

Levon screams but he can’t get to them. He caused all of this and he can’t stop it. Soon, his hallucinations change, bouncing from scenario to scenario of Vinny dying. Some are bloodier than others. They all end the same way. They become reality as Vinny’s own screams fill the empty space around them. His greatest fear that Vinny would die because of him is realized when the wails stop. Levon clutches his chest and crumbles to the ground, eyes wide open and unseeing, just as the lights flicker back to life. 


End file.
